


Obligatory

by jeffthemermaid



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Bonding, Candy, Draco Malfoy in the Muggle World, Dystopia, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Forced Marriage, Forced Pregnancy, Frenemies, Getting to Know Each Other, Graphic Description, Living Together, Modern Era, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sex, Smut, Temporarily Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-16
Updated: 2018-07-16
Packaged: 2019-02-03 06:42:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 22,376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12743082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jeffthemermaid/pseuds/jeffthemermaid
Summary: Dramione. Marriage Law. Cold. Unhappiness. Forced. Smut.Set in current time.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> AN: I’ve never actually read a marriage law fanfic, I just see them all the time. So, this is just me making up my version of a well-used, pre-existing idea. I feel like it’s a simple formula, hopefully I have concocted something worth your time.

Hermione was 22, living with her long-term boyfriend, Ron Weasley, and an intern at the Ministry of Magic. Things were nice. She wasn’t miserable but she was unhappy, and she often felt discontented. Her work was mundane, all she did was file all day long. Her relationship had fallen into such a regular routine it was boring. She had so little to talk about with Ron. Each night, he listened to the sparse news from her day, and she’d do the same in return. They’d eat her tolerable, but uninteresting, cooking for dinner, wash the dishes, and spend the evening in one of two ways. The usual, each quietly going about their own business, Hermione reading, Ron tinkering with his chess collection, or they’d go to bed, and have sex.

They had no shared interests, frankly Hermione found that Ron didn’t have much personality, or any hobbies besides chess. Which she loathed.  
In fact, Hermione had realized she didn’t even know why she liked Ron to begin with.  
Initially she had realized sex wouldn’t be the best part of their relationship, but she hadn’t worried, expecting them to have so much chemistry elsewhere. They didn’t. And though Ron’s cock was average sized and he could usually go for a few minutes before he was spent, he was not a noteworthy lover.  
He liked to grope her breasts, she didn’t like it, it wasn’t sensual, and he’d clearly never heard of a clitoris. Foreplay was sparse, he only did missionary and he thought that thrusting his penis in and out of her vagina a couple dozen times would be enough to ravish her. He certainly didn’t use his mouth for anything besides kissing, that was for sure.  
Hermione had brought sex up multiple times during their relationship, Ron always blushed and brushed her off, refusing to hear criticism, suggestions, or even hear what she wanted.

She’d grown far too accustomed to it.

She wasn’t sure why, but she remembered loving him, after defeating Voldemort, after they connected during the Battle. She had fallen. And yet somehow, she no longer had those feelings. Love had faded, without her notice, and become routine. She was used to him. 

She just didn’t love Ron Weasley anymore.

This realization had made the news even worse.

‘Due to an alarming decrease in magical population and rise in muggle population, all wizards and witches over the age of 21 must marry a fellow wizard or witch by the end of the year. If not married by choice by December 31st, the Ministry will assign a marriage to a random member of the wizarding community. All assigned marriages must be accepted, on pain of imprisonment in Azkaban, life sentence.  
All pending marriages of members of the wizarding community to muggles and same-sex marriages have been suspended and are henceforth banned. Failure to comply will result in imprisonment in Azkaban for the remainder of the population crisis, minimum 20 years.  
All marriages must provide a minimum of three children within a five-year period. If, after two years of matrimony, no child has been conceived, both partners will be exiled from the wizarding community, their wands broken, and will forced to live as Muggles. They will be cut off from friends, family and from the Ministry for Magic, irrefutably.’

Hermione had stared at the Daily Prophet, her hands shaking slightly, her face blank. The information was too horrific for her mundane life cushioned brain to respond to immediately. Eventually she snapped to attention, her reeling mind focusing and telling her to pull herself together. Yes, she was upset, yes this was crazy, yes, she could hardly breathe, BREATHE DAMNIT.  
“You can’t marry Ron.” Were the first words she uttered, tears pooling, her heart aching as she imagined the rest of her life like this. Boring and tiresome, little Weasleys running around…  
No. She was meant for so much more. She had brains, ambition, passions, she was a beautiful woman, and she couldn’t live like this.  
She didn’t know what to do about the marriage law. She’d have to cross that bridge when she came to it. What she had to do was break up with her boyfriend of four years and get her ass out of this dreary house.

Ron arrived home, his face flushed, rare excitement in his eyes. “Hermione! Time to get married, have you heard? It’s crazy, but at least we have each other!” He picked her up, swinging her around, his enthusiasm hurting her heart deeply. Memories of him like this in high school resurfacing and threatening to weaken her resolve to leave him.  
“Ron, no, put me down.” She said softly, blinking back tears, her guilt weighing heavily in her stomach, making her feel physically sick.  
Ron frowned, setting her back on the ground. “What’s the matter?”

Hermione swallowed the lump in her throat, choking on her words. “We can’t do this Ron, forcing marriage is wrong.” She began weakly, fumbling as she tried to put her feelings to words.

“It won’t be forced.” Ron assured her, getting down on one knee and grasping her hands despite her face crumpling in protest. “Hermione Granger, will you marry me?” Ron asked hopefully, looking up at her from beneath his floppy ginger hair.

Hermione dropped his hand, shaking her head, tears running freely. “I don’t love you Ron.”

She began crying in earnest as hurt painted his face, he was visibly crushed and it hurt her more than she thought she could bear.

“I’m so sorry. I just can’t do this anymore. I want so much more, I can’t live this way, I, I’m so sorry.” She sobbed as he stood, reaching for his shoulder as his face steeled over. He stepped out of her reach and turned away.

“I’m going to the burrow. When I come back I expect you to be gone.”

Hermione swallowed her tears, collapsing to her knees, shuddering when he slammed the door behind him. She sat on the floor until her eyes were dry and her battered heart was beating steadily.

Breaking up with him had been harder than anything else before in her life, and yet, through the pain, she could already feel a weight lifting from her shoulders.

She was free.


	2. Chapter 2

Months passed since the day the Marriage Law went into effect. The day she had left Ron and her new life had begun.   
Hermione had packed her things, and moved into a cosy flat deep in the heart of London. The noise and hubbub around her was a welcome change. She had quit her job at the ministry and starting work at wizarding museum. She started off as a tour guide, but her intricate personal knowledge of wizard history, art and culture brimmed over and she’d expanded on the exhibits with an impressively unique perspective that didn’t go unnoticed. She impressed her superiors greatly and moved up the ranks fast, becoming a curator in less than six months. She loved the job, teaching others, and studying to her hearts content, surrounded by beautiful relics and magical oddities.  
She had decorated her apartment lavishly, splurging on curtains, art, furniture, the works. Every inch of it oozed with her passion and personality. The walls lined with full book shelves, the big comfortable couches, the cat bed for Crookshanks by the real wood fire. Her kitchen was bright and sunny, her whole houses color scheme light and breezy, blue, and green being the most common colours. 

She had revived her social life as well, finally consenting to meet Luna and Parvati at the pub after work, and even going out at the weekends.   
She revamped herself as well, investing in some new clothes, new makeup, and a lot, I mean a lot, of new shoes.  
She had become quite the vixen, her curly mane styled to perfection, lips painted bright red, her naturally thick brows finally in fashion. She’d be seen wearing a smart jacket, skinny jeans and towering heels, a rucksack full of books over her shoulder, as she waited in line for her morning hot chocolate on her way to work each morning.   
She was happy. She was contented. And it wasn’t going to last.

One early October morning she was sitting across from Harry Potter at the Leaky Cauldron, a mug of hot chocolate warming her hands, her eyes trained keenly on her best friend.  
“So of course, I love Ginny, she’s perfect. But I’m not sure I’m in love.” Harry shook his head, his black hair spiking all over the place. “I’m not sure it matters though. We’re married. It’s done. It doesn’t matter if I’m in love with someone else. I have to do right by Ginny.”   
Hermione reached across the table to squeeze his hand sympathetically. “I’m sorry. I had no idea of the struggle you were going through until now. I’m sorry I didn’t see how hard this was for you.” She took a sip of her drink, her mind settling uneasily on Harry’s suggestion he was in love with another.  
“You and Ginny just seem so in love, and I know the law sucks and is inhumane, but it seemed like it wouldn’t be so bad for you two you know?”  
Harry nodded. “I get it. I do. I just had to go and screw it up with my fickle heart.”  
Hermione grimaced. “Same.”  
Harry chuckled dryly. “Yeah, Ron still hasn’t forgiven me for staying friends with you.”  
“Well I’m glad you are.” Hermione replied, shoving away her concern. She just hoped Harry wasn’t alluding to her, because she did not have those feelings for him. And she couldn’t bear to break two hearts in one year. 

After she bid him goodbye later that afternoon she chided herself for even considering herself an option. How conceited was she?   
Feeling an immense relief, assured that it couldn’t be her Harry was in love with, she walked home with a skip in her step. She was going to be okay. This she knew. She didn’t know what to do about the looming end date, the ominous December 31st, but she would have to worry about it later, because right now she was living.  
And she did.

She spent Christmas with her parents and the holidays with her friends.

And then on that day, on the last day, she was summoned to the Ministry with countless others. Thousands, probably.  
And numbly, her face a poised mask of polite grace, her body calm and still, her heart racing like a drum, she waited in line to find out who she would be sharing her life with. Who she would have to be intimate with for the rest of her life. Whose children she would have to bare, whose face she would have to see every day.  
And she was ready. She had come to terms with it, in the very last moment, she accepted her fate willingly and with good intention. She vowed silently that she would don everything within her power to make this marriage work, and to make the best of it.  
Confidently she stepped into the office, ready to meet her husband to be, ready to meet her future.

And there he was.

All six feet of his arrogant, pale, self. Looking every inch a wealthy cad, his pale blonde hair styled fashionably, his smart black suit tailored to perfection, his narrow, handsome face cleanshaven, his signature sneer firmly in place.

“Oh god no.”

Hermione’s mouth dropped open in horror as she stared into the cold, silver, eyes of Draco Malfoy.


	3. Chapter 3

They couldn't be serious.

They were serious.

None of her protests would even be heard. They were married right there in that office. No ceremony. No physical touching. Just signatures on parchment. Hermione's cramped scrawl was shaky, Draco's own penmanship eloquent and refined.  
She fought back tears the entire time.

And then it was just done. Over. She had barely had time to process what was happening and then they were being ushered out so the next unlucky couple could be wed.  
She stood in the foyer, vaguely aware that someone was speaking but unable to process with her head ringing and the room slipping….

"Granger!" Draco's sharp voice snapped her to attention.  
She turned to face the former Death Eater, her vision coming into focus on his vexed expression.

"Can we go?" He sounded mad, he was, but Hermione cared very little about how he felt.

"Where are we going?" She asked him, her tone clearly implicated how complicated that question was. "My apartment." Draco informed her as it if entirely obvious. "Unless of course you'd like to live in Malfoy Manor."

"What about my apartment?" She demanded, affronted that he hadn't even considered where she lived.

Draco wrinkled his nose. "No thanks. You can have your stuff sent over but we're not going there."

Why did it sound like he'd seen it?

"I suppose you still have that dreadful cat?" Draco continued as Hermione wondered internally why he remembered Crookshanks from school.

"Yes and he's coming with me." She attempted to be snappy but Draco already seemed on board with the idea. He was probably more excited about her dreadful cat than her, she mused, unsure whether this even mattered.

"Just take my hand and we can apparate there." His instructions were delivered without eye contact and were met with silence as Hermione noticed for the first time that his parents were no longer present.

"I don't want to hold your hand."

She didn't even say it snottily. It was more of statement than an insult.

"Hurry up Granger, you'll have plenty of time to make my life difficult once we're out of here."

To her surprise he didn't grab her hand, he merely offered her his own.

She looked at his extended hand for a long time. Long enough that most people probably would have retracted their offer and walked away. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, counting to ten, hoping he would do just that.

She opened her eyes. His hand was still there, narrow, and pale, especially under the buzzing fluorescent lights in the office. The only reason she would even accept his hand was because she had promised herself she would accept her marriage with dignity.  
Granted, that was before she found out she was marrying Draco Malfoy.  
Well, now she was married to him. She was his wife. Hermione Malfoy.

"I'm going to be sick." The room felt like it was closing in again.  
"Stop being such a wimp Granger, get over it already." Draco suggested maddeningly, his cool demeanour cracking with impatience, probably because his arm was beginning to ache.  
"Just shut up and get us out of here." Hermione conceded as she swallowed hard and decided to be the strong woman she hoped she was. She took his hand, barely registering how cool and smooth it was before they were hurtling through space and time and arriving in a cold, shadowy room.

Upon their arrival Draco immediately dropped Hermione's hand.

She watched him in sullen silence as he approached an ornate cabinet, opened it to reveal an impressive high end liquor collection, and poured himself a glass of scotch. He knocked that glass back, then another, and a third. After pouring a forth he walked to the fireplace and muttered a few words, causing a warm, crackling fire to burst onto the hearth.

He had again surprised Hermione, not for the last time that day, this time with his casual use of wandless magic.  
Still with her gaze on him he settled onto one of two deep set leather chairs by the fire.

The room was vast, both the windows were covered in heavy, floor-length drapes in Slytherin green, the rest of the walls lined with shelves. These contained books, potions and all kinds of intriguing objects. There were also two doors, one was open and Hermione could just make out a kitchen. The other was closed.  
There was no other furniture in the room besides a table with a lamp, which wasn't lit, there was nowhere else to sit, except beside her newly wed husband. Hermione realized she was shivering in the cold of the previously unused room and moved closer to the fire, eventually sitting in the other armchair. It was comfortable, if a bit stiff and cold, but nice and deep, she could imagine curling up in it with a blanket, pillow and a good book.

If only Draco Malfoy wasn't a foot away from her, staring pensively into his drink.


	4. Chapter 4

“Where’s the bathroom?” 

It was the first thing she’d said to her new husband since their arrival in his apartment. They’d been sitting for more than 45 minutes, only the crackle of the fire interrupting their strained silence. 

“Through the closed door.” Draco didn’t even look up, just took another swig of his drink. 

Hermione didn’t thank him, she was desperate to get away from him, and this seemed like a viable solution, for the time being. She hurried through the door, noting the brass handles and ornate wooden detailing, and found herself not in the bathroom but in Draco’s bedroom. Her bedroom? Their bedroom? She shuddered hard and went quickly past the four poster bed, refusing to take in any extra details as she slipped into the en-suite bathroom. 

She knew what would have to happen in that bedroom soon enough and she was not ready to even begin thinking about that yet. Just the knowledge of what she had to do was enough to make her feel ill. 

The bathroom was very calm, pleasant even, it was all crisp and white, and very clean. Hermione turned on a tap, first splashing cool water over her face and then dabbing it on her neck as well, determined to calm down and keep a level head. Refreshed, she dried her hands and hurried back through the ominous bedroom and re-entered the living room.   
Needing courage and feeling more confident Hermione walked past where Draco was sitting, going to his liquor cabinet. She inspected its contents before pouring herself a gin and tonic, downing it quickly and then pouring herself another. 

The fire of alcohol burning in her belly she retook her seat and together the two of them continued sitting, occasionally sipping from their beverages, ignoring each other, until Hermione couldn’t bear the tension anymore despite not wishing to talk to him anymore that he wanted to talk to her.   
“So where do we go from here?” She asked, intensely aware of how unfriendly her tone was. She wasn’t capable of producing anything much nicer, not if she had to look at his arrogant face at the same time. 

“I’m going to bed.” Draco’s tone was equally as short as hers, but it was accompanied with a cruel smirk. “There’s only one bed, in case you were wondering.” 

Hermione gritted her teeth. “I don’t suppose you’re going to be a gentleman and sleep out here and give me the bed?”

“Whoa, what makes you get the bed? Sexist much?” He scoffed, clearly mocking her as he stood, stretched, and set his glass on the mantelpiece. 

“Why do you have to make this even more unpleasant?” Hermione demanded, eyes flashing angrily, all thoughts of keeping her cool thrown to the wind.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about Granger.” Draco passed her, pausing as he opened the door to the bedroom. “The bed is comfier than the floor by the way.”

Hermione watched him go, livid, but torn, as she was emotionally drained and wanted nothing more than to go to bed. With a sigh she got up and followed him into the room.  
“I don’t have any pyjamas.” She informed him, her reluctance to ask for his help evident on her face. 

“Here.” Draco handed her a large white t-shirt. “Call it a wedding present.” 

“Thanks.” She didn’t even acknowledge his sarcastic remark, just accepted the shirt and locked herself in the bathroom to change. She stripped down to her underwear and pulled the shirt on over her head. It was long enough that she felt her dignity wasn’t compromised and it was clean and soft. More than she had hoped for really. She gave herself one last look in the mirror, her wild hair and sad eyes stared back at her, and re-entered the bedroom. To her relief Draco was already in bed, to her dismay he was only wearing a pair of draw string pyjama pants.

She hadn’t previously realized how fit he was, but she could now see that he had wonderfully sleek muscles, flat packed under his under his pale skin. His abdomen and chest were exceptionally impressive, chiseled to perfection, much like his jaw, and were finished off with a light dusting off blonde hair. Unwilling to admit that her nemesis/husband was attractive, and a little overwhelmed by how attractive he actually was, Hermione adverted her eyes and approached the empty side of the bed.

It was made up with soft cotton sheets, a luscious down comforter, a fur, and several huge plump pillows. Hermione grabbed a bunch of said pillows and built a wall down the middle of the bed, so busy not looking at Draco she missed the look of gentle amusement n his face as he watched her create a barrier between them. 

“My side. Your side.” Hermione pointed to the empty half of the bed and the half he occupied respectively. “You stay on yours, I’ll stay on mine, deal?” She asked as she climbed onto the luxurious mattress.   
“Deal.” Draco agreed readily, both of them avoiding the fact that they wouldn’t be able to do that forever. 

“Good night then.” Hermione said awkwardly, pulling the covers up and turning to away from her husband. 

“Night.” Draco did the same, pulling his favourite pillow into his arms and holding it tight. He stayed awake long after Hermione fell asleep, just listening to her soft breathing, and wondering how their lives had gotten so fucked. They had to make a baby, they had to make it soon. And they sure as hell weren’t going to do that with a pillow fort between them.


	5. Chapter 5

The first seven mornings of Hermione and Draco’s marriage were almost identical. Hermione rose first, went for a run, showered, and made breakfast from Draco’s well stocked cupboard. Draco would emerge from his slumber closer to lunchtime, and was always in a detestable mood until he had completed the arduous task of having a leisurely shower and downed at least two cups of coffee.

This was followed by both of them leaving the house and staying away until as late as they possibly could. Hermione went to work at the library, visited her parents, and spent a few evenings ranting about her situation to Harry, who was equally as furious as her, if not more so about her being landed with a Malfoy. She found herself avoiding Ginny completely, unable to face her after Harry’s confession of not loving her the right way, and she avoided all of her other friends, too ashamed to face any of them.  
She also, saddening as it was, cleared out her apartment and put it up for lease. Her stuff was piled all around Draco’s house, the discussion about how to set things up having never happened. Crookshanks, much to his mistress’s displeasure, adored Draco’s apartment and had taken up residence on their pillow divider in the master bedroom.

Where Draco spent his days was a little more ambiguous, Hermione honestly had no idea what he did with all of his time. She seriously doubted he was employed. They managed to spend very little time together, Hermione was usually already in bed when Draco arrived home, and if she wasn’t already asleep, she pretended to be.  
However despite having spoken less than a dozen words to each other all week, both of them could feel the pressure of time as owl after owl arrived at the apartment, all from the Ministry, all in regards to their marital bed. They were insistent that the marriage be consummated, and unfortunately lying about said act wasn’t an option as the Ministry’s lie detector spells were unrivalled in accuracy. 

It only took another week after the first for Draco to realize that his wife was never going to instigate the lewd act required of them. He himself was unsure of how to tackle the challenge, but someone had to step up. He’d never fucked anyone that hated him before, and though he didn’t categorize his feelings for Hermione as hate, he certainly didn’t think much of her. And he’d been told all of his life that her kind was beneath him. Though he was coming to see that was wrong, he did hate Potter and Weasley, and even if he moved past her impure-blood status, she would always be associated with them in her mind. Not to mention Weasley had had his dick in his wife, less than a year earlier no less. That was a bit of a turnoff. 

He wasn’t above admitting that he had felt a stirring of physical attraction for her though, despite how irritating she was. Sometimes at night, when it was warm, Hermione kicked off the duvet in her sleep. This often exposed her silky legs, so lean and shapely, and the not-so-subtle curve of her behind. Though hidden in demure clothes, his wife’s cute little waist and large breasts had not gone unnoticed by her husband. Not to mention her olive skin, freckles, deep chocolate eyes and ferocious curls were all exceptionally attractive. 

Now if only he could have all that without hearing her aggravating voice ever again. Then he would be a happy man.  
Despite his misgivings and his preference to not to, Draco decided that he was going to have to woo Hermione Granger, whether either of them liked it, or not. 

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Bedding his forced-by-law wife was going to be no easy task. And he no similar experiences to compare this too. His list of previous lovers wasn’t as long as some, but all the women on it had been more into him than he was them. That’s why Granger was so difficult. She hated his guts, and though he didn’t like her much, he did think she was sexy.  
Pansy Parkinson had banged him through most of his Hogwarts tutelage, the first time when they were 14. He had had to break it off with her sometimes, to keep her from getting to keen, and during those times he had girls like Lavender Brown who were only too willing to suck his cock behind statues in the divination tower. Since the end of the war he’d had even more heartless flings, bedding random women, and a few witches, Romilda Vane and Astoria Greengrass to name two, who’d all been left in the dust and never contacted again.

He wasn’t expecting a night of fiery passion, but he also wasn’t sure he could get it up whilst looking into Hermione’s disapproving face. He imagined her below him, with her, motionless, lips pressed tightly together, arms crossed, correcting his technique… Draco shuddered a little, trying to get the image out of his head before it did any permanent damage to his responsive system. 

He was in his chair, where he usually was, as he stewed over his marital woes, and it was only now, his resolve strengthened, that he stood and began making preparations. 

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Hermione arrived home in easily the best mood she’d been in all week. Nothing major had happened, just everything in her day had gone well and she felt slightly less hopeless then she had the day before. 

All of that good mood dissipated however when she found her husband, in the middle of the bed, pillow divider gone, wearing nothing but a pair of black silk boxers and his trademark smirk.

“Hello Granger.”


	6. Chapter 6

“What do you think you’re doing?” Hermione demanded, grabbing a robe off the floor and tossing it at her nearly naked husband. 

“Seducing you. Is it working?” Draco smirked, catching the robe easily and casting it aside.

“No it is not!” Hermione spluttered fiercely, blushing bright red as she tried not to focus on his lithe, smooth body. 

“Come on, it’s not the worst offer you’ve ever had.” Draco offered, trying to maintain a pleasant attitude as his wife’s reaction irritated him.

“I’m not ready for any of this Malfoy, you have no right to expect me to just do whatever you want.” Hermione replied hotly, crossing her arms. 

Draco frowned, her words snapping his resolve to be a gentleman. “Look here you silly woman, this is not what I want, you are not what I want, but if we don’t start having children, neither of us are going to be allowed in the magical world anymore and believe me Hermione Granger, I will not be a fucking Muggle.” He spat, getting up from the bed, his face thunderous as he glowered at Hermione. 

Overwhelmed and infuriated Hermione met his glare with her own, the two of them just staring at each other resentfully until reality finally hit her like a ton of bricks. 

“Fine.” She conceded, reluctant, but for the first since their marriage, fully accepting of her fate. “As long as we agree that neither of us wants this, and there’s no kissing, and no extra touching. And we aren’t lovers, we’re just fulfilling a contract. Can you do that?” She asked, her voice low and as miserable as the expression on her face. 

“Deal.” Draco said unceremoniously. “Not gonna be a problem.” He was defensive, as uncertain as her, and a little hurt that she clearly found him more repulsive than her did her. 

“Right, let’s get this over with.” Hermione unbuttoned the coat she was wearing and spent several long seconds folding it before she discarded it on Draco’s dresser and approached the bed.

Draco sat back down, slipping under the covers, hesitant to make any moves but unable to take his eyes off Hermione as she, painfully slowly, removed her clothes.  
She did dress a lot sexier than he’d ever imagine she would, he’d decided her style was like a high end bookworm, most of her outfits included a jersey and heels, and yet he was still unfamiliar with her body.

The most self-conscious she’d ever felt in her life, the usually confident Hermione removed her clothes with the speed of a 70 year old and the sex appeal of a damp mop.  
Eventually she was wearing nothing but her blue lace underwear and her favourite white bra. 

The silence thus far had been deafening and Hermione was desperate to break it.

“I’m just gonna turn the light off.” She explained unnecessarily as she walked awkwardly to the light switch. Draco nodded his acknowledgement of her decision, his eyes fixed on the curve of her, smooth, pale behind, his throat unbelievably dry. 

Hermione felt a little better with the light off, but as she navigated her back to the bed in the dark, she couldn’t help but feel like the embarrassed virgin she had been the first time she and Ron had slept together. 

She’d only ever had sex with Ron, but with what she’d heard from Pavarti and Luna, she knew she’d been missing out. She didn’t want to be intimate with Draco though, there was no sweeping music, no rush of heat and emotions, only two awkward people with an arduous task to complete.

Once they were both in the bed, under the covers, surrounded by darkness, the only sound being their shallow breathing, they reached the undeniable conclusion. They were going to have to get this thing started. 

Hermione shimmied down from a sitting position, until she was laying down, her arms crossed firmly across her chest, her heart beating so rapidly she wondered if she might have a heart attack. 

Draco pushed himself up on his side, his eyes adjusting in the dark enough to make out his wife’s shape. He shifted closer until he was pressed against the warmth of her side. She shuddered against him, probably in disgust, he told himself, even more discouraged by this situation than he had been ten minutes ago. 

Tentatively he reached an arm across her and placed his hand on her slender shoulder. She was trembling under his touch, her skin so unbelievably soft, her breath quickening as used his thumb to stroke her shoulder gently. 

Feeling extremely uncertain but spurred on by the fact she hadn’t slapped him or screamed at him yet, he moved down until he was kneeling between her knees, his hands holding him up on either side, above her but neither of their bodies touching. 

Hermione bit her lip as Draco shifted until he was above her. His silvery hair shone through the dark, and his eyes glittered above her, he wasn’t even touching her, but already she felt suffocated by the intimacy. She could feel this was where she was supposed to do something, her turn to help, her move, he’d put the ball in her court. But she was frozen, rigid with fear, loathing, and a horrible, horrible urge to run screaming from the room. 

“Um, what now?” Draco asked, his voice the least confident she’d ever heard it. Something about how vulnerable he sounded reminded Hermione that this wasn’t just difficult for her, and she calmed a little, her breathing returning to normal and her rigid body relaxing a little. 

“Uh, don’t you know how this works?” She attempted humour, her voice the kindest it had been thus far in their marriage. 

“Of course I do.” Draco scoffed, defensive as he shuffled above her. “It’s just a bit difficult getting, um, getting….ready, when there’s nothing very exciting happening.” 

He was mumbling and even in the dark Hermione could tell he wasn’t looking at her and was almost definitely blushing. 

“Oh. Right.” Hermione bit back an awkward laugh, trying to be an adult in return to his effort at communication. How would a guy get hard in such an awkward situation? 

You could almost hear the wheels churning in their brains as they both mulled over the problem, eventually reaching similar conclusions. 

Reluctantly Hermione reached under herself and unclasped her bra, pulling it off and throwing it away. Instinctively she immediately covered herself with her hands, flushing as her skin rippled with goose bumps and her nipples hardened beneath her hands. 

She almost jumped in fright as Draco’s hand gently touched her own, his slender fingers pressing between her own until they were both cupping her left breast.  
Draco bit back a soft moan as he came into contact with Hermione’s breast, the soft, fullness much larger than he expected and very enjoyable to his touch.  
Her breath hitched as he rubbed his thumb across her hard nipple, the power of the female body overcoming Draco’s inhibitions about who the body belonged to and he grew a little hard in his boxers as he used his willpower to refrain from taking her supple breast in his mouth. 

Hermione found she was able to bear his hand on her, and though it wasn’t what she wanted, she brought her on hands up and pressed them to Draco’s chest. She fumbled, unfamiliar with his hard, strong body, but did her best to run her hands along his shoulders, chest and sides, hoping to excite him enough to get the deed done without having to commit any more effort.

Draco had never been this close to someone without kissing. He loved making out. He was good at it. Pansy used to call him a parsel tongue, and she’d liked his mouth on every inch of her body. He felt so strange without it. 

“How you doing down there?” Hermione asked tentatively, trying not think about how weird she felt and relax. 

“Ready when you are.” Draco confirmed the question of the hardness of his cock with as much indifference as he could muster. 

“So, on a similar note, do you have anything to ease the journey?” Hermione asked through gritted teeth, never having imagine before in her life she would have to explain to Draco Malfoy that she wasn’t wet.

“Got you covered.” Draco leaned over, grabbing a bottle of lube from his nightstand, his bare chest pressing against Hermione’s as he did so, making her breath catch in her throat. 

She accepted the bottle from him and began the awkward shimmy out of her underwear whilst her husband rocked back onto his knees, pulling the covers back as he rose up, and adverted his eyes. She discarded her underwear as quickly as she could and pumped some lube into her hand, trying not to be grossed out by using his lube, and gingerly applied it to her womanhood. 

She could have died of embarrassment as she slipped her fingers inside herself with Draco Malfoy kneeling at the end of the bed, lubing herself up so he could try and impregnate her. 

After a few painstaking seconds she withdrew her fingers, wiping them off on her thigh and drew her knees up, her whole body trembling, and the adrenaline of this dreaded moment pumping through her veins. 

“Okay, ready.” She whispered hollowly, her fingers curling in the sheet below her as he crawled up to be above her again.  
Draco had a hand in his boxers, stroking his growing cock slowly as he looked down at the gorgeous witch in his bed, her curls spread across his pillow, her breasts heaving, and her breath rapid, her fingers entwined in his white sheets. “Okay Granger, let’s do this.”


	7. Chapter 7

Draco nudged in between her thighs, pulling down his boxers, exposing his sizeable manhood, his cock considerably larger than Rons, far bigger than anything Hermione was prepared for. If her eyes hadn’t been squeezed shut she might not have been so surprised when he pressed the head against her entrance. 

Draco had barely begun pushing the tip of his cock into her folds when Hermione’s eyes flew open in horror. “Whoa, whoa. What is that?” She demanded, pulling away from him and squeezing her thighs shut. 

“Uh, my dick?” Draco offered, slightly stunned by her reaction. Hermione’s eyes bulged as she looked down at his package and then back up at him. 

The small amount of bravery she had felt about doing this dissipated completely as she got a full visual of how much Draco she had to fit inside her. She knew that her body was designed to take that, and of course he wasn’t ridiculously porn star huge, but she felt he’d definitely earned bragging rights, to say the very least. 

“Oh okay.” She tried to play it cool, trying to hide how shook she was by this new challenge. So used to Ron’s mediocre size when she had worried about this encounter, Draco’s size hadn’t even been something she’d considered. “Uh, proceed.”

Draco did his best to hide how pleased he was, sure it wasn’t great that she was intimidated by his size, but it also was such an ego boost, not to mention it meant that Weaselbe was probably tiny. 

Biting back a smirk he moved back between her smooth legs, and pressed into her again. 

Hermione seized up a he pushed himself inside her. She half growled-half squeaked in discomfort as he filled her up slowly, squirming into the bed, her face scrunched up as he stretched her out. 

“It hurts.” She gasped through her teeth, her breathing rapid, hands screwed into fists, as pain shot through her core. 

Draco paused, his own breathing increased as he delighted in the tight fit, the heat of her walls cocooning him perfectly. “Can you take it?” He grunted, as he used all of his self-control not to thrust his entire length into the tight compress of her core. 

Hermione drew in a sharp breath and forced her body to relax. She reached up to grip his shoulders tightly and let out her breath. “Okay go.” 

Signal received, Draco pushed forward, his moan of pleasure drowned out by Hermione’s cry of distress as he entered her fully, his entire length sheathed in her narrow core. They lay like that for a few minutes, just breathing hard until Hermione had adjusted to his size a little.

He was kind of enjoying the way she was clinging to him, even though it was lacking in affection and passion, Draco was finding the experience almost bearable. 

They started moving together, Draco’s thrusts meeting Hermione’s hips. She wasn’t enthusiastic, but she didn’t just lie there either, too smart to think that would help things.  
His face above hers, his body inside hers, his hot breath on her neck, Draco’s presence was overwhelming her emotionally.   
Even as she met his thrusts and clung to his muscled arms, she felt detached from him. Tears welled in her eyes, and without her even being fully aware they spilled down her cheeks as she consummated her marriage to the Slytherin who had tormented her for six years of her life. 

“Granger are you crying?” Draco panted, horrified at the idea of fucking a crying woman, his cock immediately softening as she wiped away the tears from her cheeks. 

“No.” She lied, swallowing hard and blinking back the very real tears she was failing at hiding. 

“Jesus fuck Hermione, I can’t do this if it gonna be like that.” Draco protested, starting to pull out and climb off her. 

“NO! Keep going.” Hermione burst out, wrapping her legs around him in desperation. She did not suffer this much to not even finish the task. She needed him to impregnate her so they didn’t have to keep doing this, she need him to come, or all of this humiliation would be for nothing. 

“I’m sorry.” She choked back her sobs and clung to his body, pressing her breasts against him and reaching down to wrap her hand around his thick cock, touching his manhood for the first time.   
“We can do this.” She encouraged, her head on his shoulder so he couldn’t see the tears dripping down her cheeks despite her desperate attempts to stop crying.   
She hated the feel of him in her hand and hated what she was doing, feeling like a dirty whore as she coaxed him back to hardness, and manipulating him with her touch and her body. 

Draco’s body responded without his consent but he found himself lost in her efforts to please him, part of him disgusted, knowing how fake it was, but his desire to stay in the wizarding world and his horniness winning out. He moaned loudly as she touched his cock, relishing in her body wrapped around him, similarly wrapping his own arms around her and re-entering her warm folds. 

Arms beneath her, his cheek pressed against her ample breasts, her arms and legs around him, Draco started an intense rhythm, thrusting in and out of her until he was grunting with exertion. 

Hermione buried her face in his hair, clinging to him tightly as he pushed himself closer to orgasm. Her tears mixed with their sweat as she found herself cursing his stamina, several minutes passing as she mechanically responded to his moans with her own mews of encouragement.   
They went at it long enough for her discomfort at his size to morph into some vaguely pleasurable feelings, but she was far too emotionally drained for it to build to anything. Soon enough though Draco mumbled into her breast that he was almost there. 

“Oh god.” Fresh tears poured from Hermione’s swollen, red, eyes as Draco shuddered in her arms and he pumped his seed into her with several hefty thrusts. He pumped himself into her a few more times, relishing the pleasure of his orgasm before they untangled themselves from each other’s grasp and Draco pulled his softening cock out of his wife.   
He collapsed onto his side of the bed with an exhausted groan, lying close beside Hermione. 

She lay still, every inch of her wishing to run for the shower, to scrub every inch of her body clean, to wash away the watermelon scent of his hair, his musky cologne, and the sheen of both of their sweat. But she couldn’t. She couldn’t waste his seed inside her. Numbly she pulled down a pillow and put it under her butt, propping herself up to keep his seed inside her. 

Sniffling lightly she closed her eyes, and thanked Merlin that experience was over. Surely the first time would be the hardest and it would get easier from here? Even if they never liked each other, they might fall into some sort of routine. At least that’s what she told herself a she drifted into an uneasy sleep. 

Beside her, Draco too was having an emotional moment. Thinking clearly again with his blood rushing back to his brain, his eyes pricked with tears as he ran over the events of the last hour in his mind. How had his life come to this?


	8. Chapter 8

It had been scientifically proven that women were more likely to get pregnant if they orgasmed. 

And of course you had to enjoy sex to orgasm. 

And to enjoy sex you probably had to be having sex with someone who hadn’t bullied you for seven years and hadn’t been raised to hate you because of your blood lineage.

Then again the threat of giving up magic forever ought to be stellar motivation for a gifted witch like Hermione. 

And yet she and Draco’s first sexual encounter weighed heavily on her mind. 

Logic told her that practice makes perfect, and that continuing to sleep together would be the most logical choice. Ideally she supposed they ought to learn about each other’s needs, wants and desires, but she felt no motivation learn any of those things about Draco. 

And she seriously doubted he was interested in that information about her either.

Three days after their first attempt Hermione purchased a pregnancy test on her way home from work at the library. She hoped and prayed that against all odds she was already pregnant. That they wouldn’t have to do that again until it was time to make the next one. 

But, as she herself had predicted, despite hoping otherwise, her test was negative, she was not with child. 

She hadn’t cried, it had saddened her, but she was already resigned to the fact that sex with Draco was going to have to become a regular aspect of her life. 

She had gone home and ran a bath, filling it to the brim with hot water and bubbles from a shop in Diagon Alley, they were huge, smelt just like freshly cut grass, and lasted forever. 

She sank into the cocoon of white fluffy bubbles, the steaming water covering her completely as she rested her head, her wild curls all pinned up out of the way, against the end of the bath and relaxed into the soothing heat. 

She had been a little sore after her night with Draco, his size was something that was definitely going to take some getting used to, but she imagined there could be much worse obstacles. 

She’d been soaking for close to half an hour when she heard Draco come home. Idly she wondered where he’d been, what it was that he actually did with his days, quite frankly she had no idea. 

“Granger?” Draco’s voice came through accompanied by a knock. 

Warm and relaxed, her inhibitions running low she called for him to come in. She had fucked him already hadn’t she? It hadn’t been very intimate but still there wasn’t much left to hide. Besides she was covered neck to toe in fluffy bubbles and she was MARRIED to the wizard. 

After a pause the door opened and her husband entered, his pale hair wind swept and wearing black jeans, vans and one of his usual shirt and jersey combos.

“Hi.” Hermione greeted him, wishing she had more to say, knowing she needed to try harder to meet him halfway but struggling to do so.

“Well this is weird.” Draco said bluntly as he admired himself in the mirror, meticulously arranging his hair.

Hermione smirked as she watched him groom himself, using her amusement to summon up her courage and flick a bubble at him, catching his attention. 

“Why don’t you grab a drink and you can bore me with the details of what you spend your time doing while I enjoy your bath tub?” She suggested, keeping her tone friendly, anxious for her first attempt at companionship to go well.

Draco seemed surprised but if her offer bothered him he didn’t say. “Glad you enjoy something.” He observed, a little waspishly before flashing her a brief smile. “Sounds like a plan though.”

Hermione would normally have snapped back at his jibe but she was too busy mildly panicking. She was being such an idiot, what were they even doing right now, sure she was curious about what he did but only because she was stuck with him and had noticed the pattern. He was still Malfoy, and she still didn’t really want to know, but it was too late to change her mind, her husband had returned, a bottle of wine in one hand, two glasses in the other, sealing the fate she had chosen by asking him to talk to her.

Draco sat down on a towel beside the bath and pulled out a wooden bath tray, setting it across Hermione’s bubble covered body and set their glasses on it. 

“For courage.” Draco suggested as he poured the sweet smelling red wine and offered his wife a glass. 

“We need it.” She agreed, accepting the drink and taking a hearty sip as she tried to calm her racing heart rate. 

“We don’t know much about each other do we?” Draco observed as he swirled his wine drank down almost half of it. 

“Things might be easier if we tried to get to know on another.” Hermione said hesitantly, sipping her wine again, it was beyond delicious, like liquid velvet.

“Okay, let’s play that children’s game, twenty questions?” Draco suggested, stopping to see if she was familiar with the game. 

Hermione nodded. “Let’s do it.”

“Alright, start off simple, what’s your favourite colour?” Draco asked after thinking for a few moments. 

“Violet, indefinitely.” Hermione’s response was quick, it had been her favourite colour since she was child. 

Draco wrinkled his nose. “Violet? That’s an old lady colour.” 

“No its not, it’s lovely.” Hermione argued, flicking a splash of water and bubbles at him. 

“Okay, okay truce.” Draco exclaimed, failing miserably at dodging the water. 

“My turn.” Hermione continued. “What’s your patronus?” 

Draco shrugged and poured more wine into both of their glasses. “Don’t have one.”

Hermione frowned, processing this information. Curious, she was about to probe further but he spoke first, ending her line of enquiry.

“Uh, your first crush?” 

Hermione let an involuntary giggle and took another gulp of wine, her mind leaving the subject of Draco’s lack of patronus as she flushed in embarrassment. 

“Oh my god, definitely Gilderoy Lockhart, I was absolutely obsessed. Before Harry found out what an absolute tosser he was.” Hermione recounted with an embarrassed smile. 

“Who was yours?”

Draco smirked at her answer and then shook his head with a laugh. “You’ll never believe me.”

“Oh no you have to tell me!” Hermione demanded, her interested piqued as the usually confident Draco blushed as red as she was. 

“The Patil twins, Parvati and Padma. Ultimate fantasy of a 13 year old boy.” He confessed much to Hermione’s delight. 

“Oh my god! I would never have guessed! Oh I must tell Parvati!” Hermione chortled, almost spitting out her wine. “This is too rich.”

“Don’t be monstrous.” Draco beseeched her, wringing his hands in mock horror. “I have a reputation to uphold.” 

“Too bad, she’s as good as told already.” Hermione laughed gleefully, having another hearty drink of her wine. 

“I’m ruined.” Draco wailed, downing his glass of wine and pouring another. He grinned as Hermione laughed at him and was surprised to realize he was actually enjoying himself. He shuffled closer and propped his arms up on the side of the tub, fully aware that this usually cold and distant woman was warm and giggling, and fully naked beneath the thick blanket of bubbles in his tub. 

“If you could use a spell on any muggle what spell and who would it be?” He asked curiously as they quieted down.

“I would absolutely cast a silencio on Donald Trump if I could.” Hermione exclaimed, sitting up a little higher in the bath, her knees breaking through the surface of the bubbles as she bent them.

Draco chuckled, his appreciation of her choice evident as she leaned over in the bath. His eyes were drawn to the bubble clad curve of the side of her breast as she lifted her arm to prop an elbow up beside his own. 

“So, is it true that you slept with Millicent Bullstrode in fifth year?” She whispered conspiratorially, the vintage wine having gone straight to her head and allowing her abandonment of her reservations. 

“Ew, no! Was that what people thought? God, now I do feel sorry for myself.” Draco complained, putting his head in his hands dramatically. “Millicent fucking Bullstrode. My god.”

Hermione laughed and confirmed his fear. “Everyone definitely thought that.” 

“No!” Draco whined. “I’ve slept with so many impressive girls but I imagine that horrendous lie is what I’ll be remembered for.” 

“Oh ho, so many girls? My my, how many are we talking Mr Malfoy?” Hermione questioned him with a smirk, her curiosity having long since overpowered her dislike for her husband. 

He was kind of interesting, if she was honest, not to mention he was pretty funny, and he certainly wasn’t ugly. 

“Oh no, no, we are so not on the level for you to hear the number.” Draco protested, splashing Hermione with her own bath water.

“Oi! Alright, just tell me who you lost your virginity to, I am your wife after all, I ought to know.” She compromised, finding all this harmless gossip about her old classmates quite juicy really.

“I feel like this one is pretty obvious, Pansy Parkinson of course.” Draco informed her easily. “And who I may I ask deflowered Hermione Granger, the brightest witch of her age?”

Hermione giggled and pushed his shoulder playfully as he used the name the media had occasionally used to describe her when she was younger. 

“Ronald, obviously.” She told him, she looked surprised that he hadn’t already figured this out. 

Draco looked flummoxed. “Weasely? But you guys didn’t get together until like after 7th year?” 

Hermione shrugged. “Yeah. So?”

Draco raised an eyebrow. “Come one Granger, I heard things about you and Viktor Krum.”

“Draco Malfoy, I am not a hussy, I only kissed Viktor. A couple of times, but still, nothing more.”

Draco couldn’t stop laughing at this new piece of information, but did his best to apologize when he saw Hermione looked irked. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry I shouldn’t judge.”

“Well can a slut judge a nun?” Hermione mused, her good mood firmly back in place as Draco apologized. 

“Exactly.” Draco agreed finishing off the last of his wine.

Hermione too drank the last of hers and yawned widely. 

“Shall we move this confessional conversation to bed?” Draco offered, getting to his feet, a little unsteadily, and clearing their glasses. 

Hermione nodded, hiccupping pitifully as she did so. 

Draco went to put their glasses and the empty wine bottle away, Hermione climbed out of the tub, rather clumsily, and wrapped herself in a fluffy green towel. She let the water out and clamoured into the bedroom and into their bed. 

Draco soon joined her, he changed quickly into black pyjama pants and climbed in beside her. 

“I think I hate you less.” Hermione murmured drunkenly to him as her eyes grew heavy. 

“Me too Granger.” Draco whispered in reply as he switched the lights off and nestled in closer to her. “Me too.”


	9. Chapter 9

The pale light of dawn seemed bright to the hung over Hermione as she blinked awake, a little disorientated and dazed. 

Her head was feeling a little tender but she was so warm and cosy, she was nestled in between a pair of strong arms, a lean, warm body pressed against hers on the lavishly comfortable bed she now slept in. 

Wait. The bed she now slept in.

Hermione opened her eyes properly and looked up at the naked chest she was sleeping against. The pale blonde chest hairs were a dead giveaway. She was curled up around her husband. 

“Malfoy.” She whispered, his lack of response enough for her to discern he was still asleep. Slowly she untangled herself from his embrace and shimmied out of the warm bed and onto the cold floor. She stood up, shivering as she realized she’d gone to bed in a towel and was now wearing nothing. She quickly pulled on a robe, its softness warming her again as she tip toed to the bathroom. 

She quickly relived herself, then brushed her teeth, intently trying to piece together the events of the night before. Splashing her face with cold water to rinse off her face wash was enough of a shock to jolt her memory and the nights events flooded back to her. 

They’d talked. They’d had a nice time. Hermione mulled this over as she brushed her wild tangle of curls and sleeked it into a French plait.   
Had she really started bonding with Draco Malfoy?

Had they really spent the night sleeping in each other’s arms? Well not when she’d fallen asleep, he wasn’t holding her then. God did that mean she’d subconsciously sought him out in the night? Did that make it worse or better? She had no idea, the whole thing was making her headache worse so she shut the subject out of her mind and focused on finishing dressing. 

She went back into her and Draco’s room, searching through her boxes until she found her favourite blue jersey dress, and some black leggings to accompany it. She added a delicate silver necklace that featured a tiny tear-shaped sapphire pendant and a swipe of pink lipstick. 

She felt ready and prepared to face her first day at home since she’d moved in. She had no plans to go out, no work as it was Saturday, and she was hoping to properly disperse her belongings around the house. She felt nervous, but felt more determined than ever before to make their situation work. 

She was never going to feel like this was her home if she never unpacked. Part of her had put off unpacking, hoping this would all turn out to be a horrible mix up and she would be leaving again. But she knew that wasn’t going to happen. And after the time together the night before, for the first time Hermione felt a small ray of hope that they would learn to tolerate each other.

“Oh my god it’s so early.” Draco mumbled from under the duvet as Hermione drew back the curtains right up and opened the window. Several stories below their apartment traffic hummed through the city and pedestrians hurried to work. 

“Ah, fresh city air.” Hermione said loudly, shuddering as the winter air blasted her from outside. 

“Piss and smog you mean.” Draco grumbled as he hauled himself out of bed and stumbled to the bathroom. 

Rather agreeing with his assessment of the city air Hermione closed the window again, shutting out the noise and cold, and tapped it ruefully. 

“We do need to air out the apartment sometimes though.” 

“There’s plenty of air in here.” Draco told her as he pulled on an old band t shirt and a pair of jeans. 

“I remember you being such a sharp dresser.” Hermione commented as she raised an eyebrow at his outfit. 

“And I remember when you didn’t talk to me.” Draco retorted, opening their bedroom door. “Let’s go back to that.”

Hermione sighed and stuck out her tongue at him behind his back as she followed him to the kitchen. 

“You’re always grumpy in the morning, aren’t you?” She knew she was right and she also knew that he had put a lot more effort into making their marriage work than she had thus far so he probably didn’t actually want her to stop talking to him.

“You’re always grumpy in the morning aren’t you?” Draco mimicked in a high pitched voice as he set about making breakfast. 

Hermione smirked at his attempt to annoy her and pulled herself onto one of the bar stools in his kitchen. 

She was a terrible cook and she was quite intrigued at how well he seemed to know his way around a kitchen, her mouth soon watering as she watched and smelt his cookery.  
Draco was always grumpy in the morning but he couldn’t help but feel pleased that Hermione was returning his banter and sticking around for once. Maybe the fun they’d had the night before really was a stepping stone in making this relationship work. 

He certainly was finding her more tolerable, and she seemed to be tolerating him. Draco felt hopeful that things were looking up as diced fresh vegetables on the counter and scooped them into a pan. 

15 minutes later they were both tucking into omelettes that tasted like they had been made in heaven itself, accompanied by crispy bacon and fried potato stacks. After two helpings of that and two glasses of the superb fruit smoothie Draco had casually made Hermione was stuffed close to bursting. 

“Ah. So full. I’m going to have to go for a run tonight.” Hermione groaned she loaded the dishwasher and picked up a book from the stack she had on the counter. “I’m going to have to sit by the fire for a few minutes before I can even think about unpacking my stuff.”

“I’m feeling the same way.” Draco chuckled, just a little bit bursting with pride that his wife had enjoyed his food. He loved cooking, his mother had taught him at a young age and it was something they always did together. 

He followed Hermione into his parlour and they both settled into their respective leather armchairs, Hermione with her book and Draco, who had been low-key addicted to Candy Crush for almost two years, on his phone, crushing candy intently.

It was the most companionable their marriage had been thus far, just the two of them relaxing in front of the crackling fire in comfortable silence. 

Unfortunately it was short lived.

Both Draco and Hermione jumped violently when their peaceful morning was interrupted by a loud intense knocking on the front door. 

“Mr and Mrs Malfoy, this is the Head of the Department of the Necessary Marriage Act from the Ministry of Magic. Please open up and prepare for a surprise inspection and test regarding the legitimacy of your marriage.” A loud voice boomed through the door. 

Hermione’s look of panic perfectly mirrored Draco’s as they both stood up and approached the door.

“What are we going to do?” Hermione whispered, her heart practically in her throat as her stomach tied itself in knots. 

Draco shrugged and grasped the door knob. “We are royally fucked.”


	10. Chapter 10

“Mrs Malfoy, if you would step into the kitchen, I will interview you each separately, Mr Malfoy first.” 

The Ministry official had already inspected the apartment from top to bottom, walking around looking very displeased as her quill scribbled notes on a parchment floating behind her. 

Hermione and Draco had stood in silent horror as she conducted her inspection, both making effort to stand close and act like a couple. It was so foreign feeling, and when she was dismissed Hermione felt like her limbs were made of lead, her walk to the kitchen unbearably long as she felt the Ministry officials eyes on her every step of the way.   
Draco’s throat felt as though it was filled with saw dust as he sat down opposite the ominous woman in his leather armchair.

Neither of them were prepared for a test on each other, and Hermione especially hated the idea of failing a test. 

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

“Mr Malfoy, I will ask you questions and you will answer honestly.” The woman informed Draco as she cast a spell around them that ensured Hermione wouldn’t be able to hear them. 

She also pulled out a small cube and set it on her arm rest. “This cube flashes blue when the truth is told, and flashes red for lies.”   
Draco swallowed hard as the cube flashed blue. 

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

“Mrs Malfoy, I will ask you questions and you will answer honestly.” The woman informed Hermione as she sat down opposite her, the seat warm from Draco’s prior use. Hermione nodded dully as the woman cast a spell around them that ensured Draco wouldn’t be able to hear them. They had passed each other on as they swapped positions and the dead look in Draco’s eyes had given her nothing but despair.

The ministry official gestured to a small cube on her arm rest. “This cube flashes blue when the truth is told, and flashes red for lies.” 

“Okay.” Came Hermione’s meek answer as the cube flashed blue. 

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

“Please state your wife’s birth date.”

“Ahem, September 19th, 1979.” Draco’s face was unreadable as the cube flashed blue. 

“State your husband’s birthday.”

“June. June, 1980.” Hermione bit her lip, trying to remember what his birth date had been on their marriage certificate. 

“The day Mrs Malfoy.”

“Uh, the 15th?” Hermione tried, her heart sinking as the red flash proved she wasn’t right.

“What is your wife’s middle name?” 

“Jane, er, no its Jean!” Draco leaned back in his chair, already breaking into a nervous sweat.

“Your husband’s middle name?”

“Uh, Silverio, Septimus, Julius, Octavian?” Hermione reeled off anything she thought was a possibility, but the cube flashed red for every suggestion. 

“What are your wife’s parents’ names?”

“I have no idea.” Draco’s voice sounded hollow, the tension in the room getting ever thicker. 

“What are your husband’s parents’ names?”

“Luscius.” Hermione was confident of his father’s names, he had visited Hogwarts enough during her school years. But his mother was so elusive. “And uh, Naomi?” 

“Who does your wife cite as her biggest magical influence?” 

“Dumbledore probably.” Draco said dismissively, he could tell he had already failed. 

“Who does your husband cite as his biggest magical influence?”

“Um,” Don’t say a deatheater Hermione, don’t say a deatheater, “Uh, his father?” She was panicking now. 

“How often do you attend social functions or run errands with your wife?”

“Never.” Draco’s blood ran cold as the magical quill paused. 

“How often do you attend social functions or run errands with your husband?”

“Um, we haven’t really done those things yet.” Hermione fumbled in her mind for anything to impress this woman but she had nothing. 

“Have you fully moved in together and co-exist with both of your belongings set up around the house?”

“No.” Draco was sullen. She had to know the answer already, she had done an inspection, and she couldn’t have missed the boxes of Hermione’s things everywhere. 

“Have you fully moved in together and co-exist with both of your belongings set up around the house?”

“No, not yet, but we’re working on it.” Hermione cringed as the box flashed red. “We are planning on working on it.” She amended, relieved as the box flashed blue. 

“Have you made preparations for the arrival of a baby and adjusted your diets and physical regimes for optimum results?” 

“Wha?” Draco looked at the woman like she was speaking a foreign language. She repeated the question. “Uh. No.”

“Have you made preparations for the arrival of a baby and adjusted your diets and physical regimes for optimum results?” 

“Have we what? There isn’t even a baby yet.” Hermione protested, nonplussed. 

“How many times have you performed sexual acts with your wife?”

“Uh…once.” Draco admitted reluctantly, his chest tightening uncomfortably as the woman actually stopped to look at him incredulously. 

“How many times has your husband performed sexual acts with you?”

“Once.” Hermione’s felt like she was going to be sick. It shouldn’t surprise her that they asked such inappropriate and prying questions, it was a marriage forced by law after all, but she still felt violated.

“And finally, would you say you have attempted to satisfy the Ministry’s orders to the best of your ability?”

“No.” Draco’s blood ran cold as the woman’s quill stopped and signed a large red X at the bottom of the page. 

“And finally, would you say you have attempted to satisfy the Ministry’s orders to the best of your ability?”

“No.” Hermione whispered, her failure imminent.  
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Once they had both completed their test the ministry official addressed them together in front of the fireplace. 

“The results of your test have been conclusive. I have found you both guilty of living in an unlawful manner under the Necessary Marriages Act. Your transgressions are not grievous enough to give up your wands, but they must be remedied immediately. 

I am placing you both under house arrest for 90 days. You may leave the house once a day, however neither of you can exit without the other, and if once outside you are ever more than 5 metres apart you will be automatically apparated to the Ministry for a more severe consequence.   
I will give you each a list of changes that must be made to yourselves and this house, these orders must be put into action and you will receive weekly inspections for the duration of your house arrest. 

If by the end of the ninety day period there is no child in utero, and there is insufficient evidence to prove you have done everything in your power to conceive, then you will be sent to the Ministry to hand in your wands and be stripped of your magic. Do you understand everything I have told you?”

Hermione and Draco were both silent, their mutual horror at her words rendering them speechless. In unison they nodded dumbly, both internally aching to fight these inhuman laws, to protest, but neither doing so. 

“Good.” The ministry official handed them each a stack of papers, Hermione’s considerably thicker than Draco’s, and bade them farewell. 

The walked her to the door, Draco closing it after her, then leaning his head against it as he processed. 

Hermione stood behind him, unable to move as she tried to comprehend the next 90 days of her life. 

She started to speak but was cut off as Draco suddenly balled his hand into a fist and banged it against the door angrily, before turning around and throwing his list on the ground. 

“This is bullshit! It’s only been a few weeks. What do they expect?” He shouted, his eyes flashing dangerously as he raked a hand through his blonde hair. 

“Shouting isn’t going to fix anything.” Hermione shouted at him, aware of the hypocrisy but to upset to care. It did seem far too soon for the ministry to pressing down on them like this. 

“Nothing’s going to fix anything!” Draco exclaimed, walking past her. “Our lives are ruined, they’re fucking over.”

“This is hard for me too you know!” Hermione followed, setting her papers down in the living room and grabbed his arm. “It’s not just you suffering!”

Draco whirled around on her, wrenching his arm from her grip. “Believe me I know, god’s sakes, I fucking know it’s hard for you. But have you stopped to think maybe it’s hard for me to? And not for some stupid reason like because I was raised with blood prejudice against you, but because I’m a human being who has been forced to marry someone they don’t love and who doesn’t love them? Hell we barley even like each other!” Draco ranted, throwing his hands up in exasperated anguish. 

Hermione swallowed hard, she felt like the wind had been knocked out of her. She really hadn’t taken into account that Draco was a person. Always just judged him for his past. Even though they had been children.

“Hey.” She began, trying to make amends for her selfishness, surprised to realize as she said them that her words were actually true. “I kinda like you a teeny bit.”

Draco’s temper seemed to deflate all at once, his eyes crinkling as he smirked briefly. “I kinda like you teeny bit too.” 

“But only really tiny.” Hermione added quickly, her conscious more than horrified that her hatred for Draco Malfoy had lessened in intensity. 

“Of course.” Draco agreed, nodding furiously. “The tiniest.” 

“Shall we attempt to start on those lists?” Hermione suggested, desperate to change the subject. 

“I guess we have to.” Draco conceded, and set about retrieving his papers from the floor by the door. Once he had collected them all up and Draco had poured them a drink, they settled into their armchairs to study their lists.

“Here’s to 90 days of being stuck together.” Draco held his glass out to his wife.

“To 90 days of being stuck together.” Hermione clinked her glass to his, silently adding that it was more of a lifetime stuck together.


	11. Chapter 11

With a grunt of exertion Draco pulled the floorboard beneath where his armchair usually stood loose and tossed it aside. 

“Wow. That must be worth a fortune.” Hermione let out a low whistle, shocked at the size of the gems glittering in the large space beneath the floor Draco had just exposed. 

“You married into a family of wealth Granger, were you not aware?” Draco lifted the gems out with great care, and placed them in the silver box Hermione was holding. 

“Sorry, I’d forgotten.” Hermione replied dryly, setting the ornate box full of unimaginable wealth on the mantel above the fireplace gingerly. 

“Okay, I’d say there’s enough room in here for the best of the liquor cabinet, and maybe some of your books.” Draco decided after examining the available space. They’d already sorted all of Draco’s alcohol collection into two piles, staying and going, and it had been a long and painful process for the borderline alcoholic Malfoy. 

Hermione’s books had been even more difficult. 

“I have to carry this baby, my books are going in.” Hermione was firm as she passed Draco the pile of her selected muggle favourites.

They’d spent the last two days adjusting their apartment to the ministry appointed standards they’d received along with their 90 day house arrest. 

The list was incredibly ridiculous, but their lives as witches and wizards depended on it. 

Hermione had already taken a leave of absence from her job, which had saddened her greatly but she had no choice. She thought this would be when she found out what Draco usually did with his day, but she never saw him call anyone or cancel his schedule in anyway. She was still curious about his goings on, but she now had more pressing things to deal with. 

There was a strict ban on alcohol and candy, both rules of which had sent Draco into an agonizing spiral in which he had questioned how much he liked being a wizard, but the answer had been inevitable. 

He couldn’t exist without this life. And neither could Hermione.

But, when her list had included a section on banned muggle media, and most of her non-wizarding books had made the banned list, she had felt the desperation necessary to break the rules.

She and Draco had made a pact, they would follow the list absolutely, except they would each keep one thing, the most important, and it would go in Draco’s secret hiding spot beneath the floor.

So in went classics like Lord of the Rings and Pride and Prejudice, and classics like hundred year old wines from Vienna and a sixty year old bourbon from Tennessee. 

“Is that toffee?” Hermione asked accusatorily, spying the shiny wrapper as Draco went to lock in their treasures with the floorboard. 

“So what if it is? Man’s gotta eat.” Draco said defensively, fitting in the floorboard before Hermione could protest further. 

“You made me sacrifice Lord of the Flies so you could stash your candy?” Hermione was mildly furious but also deeply amused. “Unbelievable.”

Draco shrugged sheepishly before jumping up and pushing his armchair back into position, covering their secret. 

“Okay, next, making this apartment a co-ed affair.”

They spent the rest of the day rearranging the apartment to fit both Hermione’s and Draco’s things. 

They bickered over almost everything but managed to reach compromises. Hermione got 70% of the book shelves for all of her wizardry books, and Draco retained ownership of the trunk at the end of their bed. 

The wardrobe they split 50/50, as they did the bathroom cabinets. 

Hermione insisted on mixing her towels and linen in with Draco’s so they could use both, a demand Draco only complied with by first ordering her to dispose of all the flannelette sheets.

“Only crisp sheets in this house.” He’d told her smugly as she begrudgingly folded them into the box of things they going to donate to second hand shops.

They moved Hermione’s dresser in, squeezing it onto her side of the bed, and set up her jewellery box and perfumes on it. Crookshank’s bed was set up on top of Draco’s trunk at the foot of the bed, a lavish pile of blankets and cushions serving as his own private palace. 

Crookshanks however preferred sleeping in the big bed with his owners, Draco’s chest being his sleeping place of preference, much to Hermione’s irritation. 

They had to adhere to a new healthy eating plan, something Hermione would have a lot less trouble adjusting to than Draco, though she couldn’t cook with half the ingredients on the list so he would end up taking on most of this responsibility. 

Both had a list of fertility potions and vitamins they had to start taking as well. In their pantry they had a magical section, and as they were both avid potion makers, this didn’t present much of a problem, though Hermione found most of the ones she had to drink tasted foul. 

For some reason the ministry hadn’t banned cell phones, and both she and Draco had one, though Hermione suspected Draco barely understood how to use his.

They also had new exercise regimes to follow, and worst of all, the ministry, having updated its knowledge a little, had included an ovulation tracker and alarm. 

Hermione had given up on explaining how the female body worked to Draco and eventually googled it and let him read the information himself.

He’d seemed a little scarred afterward and still hadn’t ceased asking her disbelieving questions. 

However despite the hurdles, the task of bring their lifestyles together the way they had had cleared a lot of their communication barriers. They were able to talk to each other, without much effort being made. Communicating had become more natural, certainly. 

However they still had two major tasks to deal with. 

Firstly, they had to start shopping and going out together, no more than once a day, and they had to stay together. 

Secondly, they had to have sex again, and they had to start doing it regularly. 

In fact, according to their lists, every time Hermione was ovulating they had to have sex, and the list also encouraged extra-curricular sexual activity, to help bring a sense of normalcy to the act.

And while talking was getting easier, Hermione was in no way eager to re-live that experience. 

Neither was Draco, who, despite himself, enjoyed aggravating Hermione and found that arguing with her was starting to ignite something pleasant within him, but still felt apprehensive about their marital duties. 

He felt like they’d reached a stage where they were almost friends, kind of like frenemies, who bantered a bit.

But they were not passionate lovers, they weren’t wild for each other, the tension in the air was decidedly unsexual, and the pressure of their house arrest only served to dampen their spirits. 

Five days in they still hadn’t slept together. 

Hermione had been on the phone with her friends for most of that afternoon, deciding, now that she couldn’t see them, how ridiculous it had been to avoid them. 

She had been embarrassed by her situation, but now reached out to Parvati and Luna, and Harry, unloading her struggles and listening to their woes in turn. She found out Luna had been paired with Neville Longbottom and was quite pleased despite the circumstances. Parvati had ended up with Dean Thomas, and she said that at least they were already friends, it could’ve been much worse. Both girls pitied Hermione, both had nothing good to say about Draco, and why would they? She went along with what they said, not defending her husband at all, since everything they slandered him for he had actually done. 

However after she had hung up she found she didn’t feel good about the conversation, her choice to allow them to mock Draco not sitting as well as she thought it would. 

Talking to Harry had been the hardest. He was dismayed with his marriage, Hermione could tell he was miserable, but couldn’t help. She knew he was in love with someone else, he had told her as much back when he first married Ginny, but he hadn’t told her who and he remained as mum now as he had back then. 

She had offered him as much support a she could, reminding him that she loved him dearly before ending that conversation as well. 

A little tearful from the emotional conversations she wiped her eyes on her sleeve and got up from her chair by the fire. She had accessorised it to suit her, draping it in a fluffy red blanket and giving her plushest cushion a place of honour on its seat. 

The apartment was feeling more like home, which was nice, but also unsettling, as she realized how much she had adjusted already. 

Draco didn’t love all the changes to his bachelor pad, but found most of them tolerable. What he didn’t find tolerable was how much Hermione was avoiding the conversation of their sex life. 

He resented how she was making him the one who always had to bring it up. She needed to take on her share of the responsibility, not to mention, going from having sex often, with many willing women, to not having sex at all, and his only option was a very un-willing woman, kind of sucked. 

He knew it was selfish, but he was young, he was horny and he cooped up inside his house with no one but the woman he was supposed to impregnate. 

Sex seemed like the most obvious solution.


	12. Chapter 12

“So, let me just clarify, you just have like a waterfall, like your just gushing blood and guts, for a week?! Every month?!” Draco was still trying to wrap his head around the concept of a period, 12 days into their house arrest.

“It’s not quite that dramatic, but yeah.” Hermione confirmed his question for what must have been the twelfth time. “How is it you don’t know this? What about all these girls you’ve slept with?”

“Well I didn’t date any of them very long.” Draco replied defensively, inwardly wondering if this was the answer to Pansy’s monthly sourness when they were in high school.

 Hermione shook her head and went back to reading her book.

Outside it was pouring with rain, a real storm was accosting London. Both of them had retired to bed early, but both were wide awake. Hermione was reading a weird book on ancient magical fertility practices, and thus far she was not keen to try any.

Draco had been playing Candy Crush until it had made him hungry, and miserable because he had no candy. What he wouldn’t give for a chocolate frog he didn’t know. Now he was just lying beside Hermione with Crookshanks curled up on his abdomen. He petted the purring cat happily, he’d always liked cats, his mother had several sleek black felines while he was growing up, and while Crookshanks was one ugly bastard, he filled a little hole in Draco’s heart.

Hermione was still avoiding the subject of their sexual duties, and despite his pent up frustration, Draco had decided that he wouldn’t bring it up until she did. He was going to make her address their duty even if it killed him.

“Ugh this book is horrible.” Hermione closed the book firmly and placed it on her dresser. She rolled onto her back and pulled the covers up. “I feel restless. What time is it?”

Draco raised an eyebrow, he was feeling relatively contented. “It’s not quite 10.” He informed her after checking his watch.

“You know at a pub only a few blocks from here Ginny is having a party, for moral boosting. I had told them I’d try and make it. That was before our house arrest, but if we both go, what do you think?” Hermione hadn’t intended to go, reluctant to go out in public with Draco. Going out where people could see them would make it so real, and she hadn’t thought she was ready.

But that book had hit her hard, making her realize how much her life would change once she was raising children. Suddenly she desired to go out and live with youthful abandon.

Draco wrinkled his nose. “A party with Potters, Weaselys and assorted Gryffindor’s? No thanks.”

Hermione rolled over and looked in deep in the eye, her expression sombre. “They have an open bar.”

“Get your coat dear we’re going out.” Draco’s mind was changed in a split second as he sprung up from their bed, sending Crookshanks screeching out the door, and started changing.

Hermione laughed, unsure if this was a good idea, but ready for music, drink, and seeing her friends. She went into their closet and changed into a silver lacy mini dress, it showed more of her ample cleavage than her usual clothes but she did look stunning in it. She finished the look with red heels, some red lipstick and her wild mane tamed into glam waves.

Draco had changed from his less than sophisticated clothes to a much nicer black blazer and grey shirt. He looked a lot more like his younger self, and though he looked good, Hermione wondered if she didn’t prefer him looking less like he used to.

She pulled on a heavy black coat, it had a faux fur collar, and grabbed her umbrella. Draco too fasted a jacket, tucking his wand and phone into the inner pockets.

“Come on, let’s go to this stupid thing. Remember, we have to stay within five feet of each other or it’s kaput.” Draco sliced his finger across his throat and Hermione nodded her confirmation.

They exited together, for the first time, and hurried through the rain under Hermione’s umbrella to one of the cabs idling on their street. The drive was short, but the driver pleasant, so Draco tipped him generously as they climbed out of the vehicle.

The pub was lit up brightly in the miserable night, music, light and warmth poured out of its doors as someone stumbled out. Draco caught the door, allowing Hermione in first, hoping her friends would be distracted by her and he could slip in mostly unnoticed.

“Hermione!” Came a chorus of excited female voices as about a dozen girls clustered around his wife. Draco stepped around them, trying to stay out of the way, until as he stepped back suddenly red flashed across his vision. He froze, the red kept flashing. He stepped closer to the swarm of girls, closer to Hermione, and the red disappeared.

“So this thing comes with a warning system.” Draco muttered as a panicked Hermione excused herself from her throng of friends and grabbed Draco’s arm, pulling him to the bar. “Did you see the red light?” Hermione whispered fiercely as Draco ordered drinks.

“Yes. We need to stick together.” Draco told her, downing a shot of whiskey.

“That means you’re going to have to talk to my friends.” Hermione reminded him.

“Shit.” Draco signalled the bar keep and then downed another four shots. “Woo! Now I literally don’t care.”

“Better than nothing.” Hermione rolled her eyes at her husband and shrugged her jacket off, setting it on the bar. Nervously she reached out and took Draco’s hand in her own. “Hold my hand and then we won’t get separated.”

“Yes mam.” Draco saluted her with an expression of mock seriousness and grabbed another drink from the bar keep. “Let’s go.”

Introducing Draco to people was weird, especially as everyone was drunk, and therefore a lot more accepting. Hermione kept getting passed cocktails and found herself getting rather tipsy as well.

After they had been at the pub for almost three hours, they found themselves on a couch, Draco sitting on an arm rest, building a stack of cards clumsily on the bar table beside him, Hermione below him on the couch, her head against his thigh as she talked with Luna, who was sitting beside her. Neville was beside his wife and amusing the entire group with horror stories of their test.

“I don’t know what I was thinking, they asked me who Luna cites as her magical influence, and all I could think about was her radish earrings yeah, and there I am saying her influence was radishes!” Neville shook his head ruefully. “I don’t know how we passed.”

“Mostly because of the nargles.” Luna explained to Hermione conspiratorially. “They’re always bringing me his things, I’ve learned a lot.”

“Oh my god.” Hermione sipped from her straw loudly, fully entranced by the strange coupling. “Tell me more!”

Draco on the other hand was not listening. In fact he was having trouble focusing in general.

“Holy fuck.” He complained as he knocked down the cards he was stacking for the third time.

“Having trouble Malfoy?”

Draco looked up, surprised and displeased as Harry Potter sat down clumsily at the table he was using. “Oh great, it’s Harry Potter.” Draco complained openly, too drunk to care about manners.

“Yes, it’s me, the great Harry Potter, the boy who lived.” Harry spoke in a mocking tone and slammed his drink down on the table. “The boy who grew up to be a piece of shit more like.”

“Ah, finally we agree on something.” Draco was amused by this Harry Potter, mocking himself and drowning in booze and self-pity? That he could relate to.

“I’m a piece of shit, you’re a piece of shit.” Harry said sloppily, nodding in agreement with himself as he took a swig of his drink.

“You’re not wrong.” Draco nodded his confirmation and finished his own drink, blinking rapidly as the room swam a little.

“Just two peas in a pod.” Harry continued, leaning across the table.

“Well that’s going a bit far Pott-” Draco was cut off in his disagreement as Harry suddenly lunged forward and planted his lips on his arch-enemies.

“Fuck off Potter!” Draco spluttered trying to turn his head away, pushing against Harry as he the other boy wrapped his arms around him and pushed him backwards. This consequently toppled him onto Hermione and Luna, both of whom squealed in surprise and spilled their drinks on him.

“Get off!” Draco shouted, twisting in confusion as Harry accosted him.

“Harry!” Ginny and Hermione’s voices rung out in unison as the ginger haired girl pulled her husband off Draco furiously.

“What the hell?” Ginny looked furious and her eyes shone with tears as she pushed her guilt ridden husband away and ran for the exit.

“Ginny! Ginny I’m sorry!” Harry stumbled after her, his apologies lost as the party continued around them, most people not even noticing the commotion.

“What the fuck just happened?” Draco asked, a little dazed as he rolled off of the girls laps and hauled himself up from the floor.

“I think you just made out with Harry Potter.” Neville offered nervously, before grinning as the people around him burst into laughter.

“I’m out of here.” Draco growled, grabbing his coat from the back of the couch and storming toward the exit.

“Malfoy wait!” Hermione panicked, clambering from the couch, her heels killing her feet as she hurried to grab her coat and purse and catch up with him.

“We have to stick together.” She called desperately after him as she stumbled outside into the wind and rain.

“Hurry up then.” Draco snapped as he stood impatiently by the can he’d flagged down.

“Why are you mad at me?” Hermione asked, upset, not only because he was suddenly being mean to her and she was drunk and emotional, but because she was worried about Harry.

“I’m mad because it’s your fault we were even at that stupid party.” Draco said roughly, slamming the cab door after they were both in.

“I didn’t know that was going to happen.” Hermione protested, tears gathering in her eyes. “You’re ruining a lovely night.”

“I’m ruining it?” Draco asked incredulously. “You know what, no, I don’t give a shit, I’m not having this argument, and you’ll always defend your precious Harry Potter.”

Draco stormed out of the cab the second it stopped outside their apartment building, Hermione having to practically throw money at the driver as she scrambled to keep up with him.

“You’re being really mean.” Hermione accused tearfully once they were inside, the bright lights of their living room hurting her already pounding head.

“So what?” Draco replied irritably, going into their bedroom and stripping to his boxers, throwing his clothes everywhere as he discarded them angrily.

“So I don’t like it.” Hermione argued as she changed into pyjamas and stumbled to the bathroom to brush her teeth.

“If you don’t like it, leave.” Draco shouted as he got into bed, unsure of what they were even arguing about, his anger and the alcohol clouding his brain.

“I can’t.” Hermione wailed as she got into bed beside him. “I’m stuck here.”

Her body wracked with sobs, the night upsetting her, the fight upsetting her, and the realization that they were basically undoing all the progress they’d made together almost breaking her.

“Oh my fucking god, why are you crying? I should be crying.” Draco said sorely, pulling his pillow over his head.

Hermione didn’t answer, just continued to cry, the intensity of her misery impossible for Draco to bare.

“Fine, if you won’t leave, I will!” Draco decided, fuming as he abruptly got up, grabbing his pillow and hauling the comforter off the bed, ignoring Hermione as she squealed in protest and stormed into the bathroom.

He threw his pillow and the comforter in the tub, climbing in after it and wrapping himself up bitterly as he silently cursed everyone and everything.

Back in the bedroom Hermione pulled a blanket from the foot of the bed up around her, curling into a ball as tears dripped down her cheeks.

Everything had spiralled out of control so quickly, all the good repour they’d built up flying out the window as Draco lost his temper and Hermione was caught in his firing line.

So, miserable, and hurt, they both succumbed to sleep, alone for the first time since they’d been married.


	13. Chapter 13

“Are we going to talk about last night?” Hermione asked, breaking the silence they’d spent the day in and were now eating dinner in.

“If you want to talk, talk.” Draco replied without looking at her, cutting his steak with a little too much aggression.

Hermione pushed her plate away, her husband’s delicious cookery like sawdust in her mouth.

“I feel like you’re waiting for me to apologise for what happened.” She said, careful to keep her tone as far from accusatory as she could manage despite her smarting pride.

“How observant of you.” Draco snapped, wishing his juice was whiskey.

“But I did nothing wrong, if anyone should apologise, it’s you.” Hermione returned indignantly, his rudeness making her determined to make him apologise for being mean to her and putting them both in danger of the ministry with his tantrum.

“Well that’s not going to happen.” Draco informed her, looking at her for the first time that day, his expression unkind.

“Well if you’re not going to apologise, I think I’ll invite Harry and Ginny over for dinner.” Hermione said primly, turning to blackmail with surprising ease.

Draco’s eyes flashed with panic before he could hide his reaction from her. “You wouldn’t.”

“Oh, I would. They really are very dear friends you know.” Hermione found she rather enjoyed watching him squirm, and she was pleased to have found the upper hand in this standoff.

“Fine.” Draco spat out from between gritted teeth. “I’m sorry I was mean to you.”

“Thank you.” Hermione settled back into her chair, watching Draco chew over the undeniable fact that she had just won.

After a few moments Draco’s stormy expression turned to begrudging respect. “Well played Granger.” He applauded her as he got up and cleared their plates.

“So we’re not fighting anymore?” Hermione asked hopefully, her cunning exterior dissolving with her relief.

“Why do you even care if we’re fighting?” Draco asked curiously as he put their plates in the dishwasher.

Hermione shrunk back, insecure about her answer, the truth hard to swallow. She had been so upset last night, and it hadn’t just been the influence of alcohol.

“I didn’t like it when you were mad at me.” She informed him, her voice quiet, her cheeks flaming red.

Draco was taken aback by her answer, his heart twinging guiltily.

“I didn’t feel great about making you sad.” He admitted honestly. “And the bath tub was horribly uncomfortable.” He added, lightening the mood.

“Well we can share the bed again.” Hermione offered, relieved that he hadn’t made her feel any more vulnerable than she already felt.

“Speaking of, you know we have to start actually, you know, sharing the bed.” Draco reminded, subtly emphasizing his double meaning.

“I know.” Hermione was resentful to be reminded of the duty that had been ignoring thus far during their house arrest, but aware that she had been ignoring it too long. “Maybe we need to access how we are going to approach that again.”

“Can we make some new rules, like no crying?” Draco shuddered. “Crying just doesn’t do it for me.”

“Well you try having sex with you and maybe you’d cry too!” Hermione was defensive, her temper flaring as she felt attacked.

“I have had sex with myself quite a bit in my life, and I’ve always found it most enjoyable.” Draco said casually, leaning on the counter.

“You’re impossible!” Hermione groaned, burying her head in her hands.

“Okay, let’s cut a deal. We start using that weird cycle tracker thingy, and whenever the alarm goes off telling us it’s the right time, we have to get it done. Deal?” Draco suggested, licking his lips anxiously.

“Fine, that actually makes sense.” Hermione agreed. “It’s a deal.”

“Great.” Draco sighed, relieved they’d finally dealt with the issue.

He and Hermione then set up the ovulation chart the ministry had given them and followed all of the necessary procedures required of them.

It was two relatively tense days before the tracker started beeping, and Hermione and Draco again found themselves facing the reality their marriage required them to face.

A shot each, possibly four shots each, from the stash under the floor boards marked the beginning of the second time they would have sex, and the beginning of a hell of a long night.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

 

“Can’t we just try and ease into it? Even though we’re not into it, maybe our bodies would react more naturally if we sort of go through the regular motions?” Draco suggested from where he was sitting on their bed in his boxers. “Medical procedures aren’t sexy.”

“It’s a fetish actually, so someone clearly finds it sexy.” Hermione corrected him as she crawled onto the bed, wearing a loose cotton night gown.

“How do you even know stuff like that?” Draco demanded as she settled down in front of him, crossing her legs daintily, and arranging her nightgown so that her modesty was protected.

“It’s called reading, you should try it sometime.” Hermione returned waspishly as she came became still in front of him.

“Jesus Christ, shut up already.” Draco closed the gap between them, pressing his lips to hers in more of an effort to hush her than to romance her.

To both of their credit, neither pulled away retching and over reacting, but neither felt much besides the undeniable but vague enjoyment that kissing ignited.

Hermione pushed her soft lips against Draco’s, opening them and allowing his wet tongue into her own mouth, his caresses gentle and not entirely unenjoyable, but still unfortunately belonging to Draco Malfoy.

Draco deepened their kisses, accosting her with one after another until the lesser experienced woman needed to catch her breath. He moved his mouth to her jaw bone, leaving hot, wet kisses along her jaw line and down her throat as she turned her face away from him to catch her breath.

“Draco.” She began a protest half-heartedly before stopping herself. His mouth was nice against her skin, if she closed her eyes tight she could almost imagine it was not him who was making her nerves tingle and her hair stand on edge in pleasure as his lips and tongue grazed her throat.

No dramatic music swelled, no hearts bloomed with love, and no bodies were overwhelmed with sudden passion, and yet two barely friendly individuals managed to soldier onward.

“Shall I hold you?” Draco breathed his question after he pressed another hot kiss against Hermione’s collarbone.

“If that helps.” Hermione gave her okay, and rose to kneel on her knees, Draco matching her actions and then pulling her closer. He wrapped his arms around her, drawing her body to him. His cool hands rested on the small of her back and on her shoulder blade as he began kissing her again.

Hermione’s skin rose in goose bumps as his slender fingers grazed her spine through the thin fabric of her nightgown. That thin fabric did little to hide the hardening of her nipples as her large breasts were crushed against Draco’s bare chest, and her body was reacting without Hermione’s consent thanks to the Malfoy heir’s expert manipulation of the nerves points under her soft skin.

Draco’s hands ran down her sides to her bare thighs and his thumbs slipped under the hemline.

“I read the information pack on your list. I know we have a lot more chance at being successful if your body is feeling receptive.” Draco murmured, his hands rising to cup her bare ass under her nightgown.

“What did you have in mind?” Hermione asked, her curiosity piqued, despite her better judgement. She’d never done anything sexually besides missionary and while she was being aroused in this way, she couldn’t help but wonder what a guy like Draco Malfoy could do to her, what he could make her feel, as much as she resented that it would be him making her feel that way.

Draco smirked and moved his hands under her nightgown, leaving a burning trail where he touched her.

“Oh.” Hermione bit her lip as Draco rested his hand on her pubic bone and pressed his thumb through her folds and came into contact with the sensitive nub above her opening.

“Uh.” Her voice squeaked in a high pitched tone as he stimulated her by rubbing his thumb lazily across her clitoris several times. She stretched her body upward, stretching her tingling nerves to further the pleasure she was felt as he touched her. Her breathing became laboured as he moved his thumb faster and used her other hand to hold her to him tightly, forcing her close to him, keeping her from breaking away from the building intensity.

“Um, ah, OH.” Hermione whimpered, her face scrunching up as the intense feeling she hadn’t experienced before overwhelmed her. She hadn’t even orgasmed yet and she was writhing against his touch, desperate to break free from the delicious agony that wracked her body. She was panting, gasping for breath, her mouth open, eyes squeezed shut as she bucked atop his hand, her hands clinging to his shoulders, her chin pressed hard into his shoulder as he stimulated her over the brink.

She her mouth was open in a silent scream as she experienced her first orgasm and her juices gushed and seeped out of her entrance a little.

Draco let her go as she fell back to sit on her heels and she found herself squeezing her thighs together to further stimulate her orgasm.

Watching Hermione cum, feeling her against him, it had really turned Draco on, his cock was hard and he was panting as he watched her enjoy the last of the orgasm he’d given her. His pent up need and lack of sexual stimulation had him desperate for release and his cock as already oozing pre cum inside his boxers, throbbing as his elevated heart rate sent blood rushing to his groin.

“Just because I enjoyed that doesn’t mean I enjoy you.” Hermione panted, anxious now that she was thinking clearly, and feeling a little disgusted with herself.

“Duly noted.” Draco replied as he pulled her back to him, kissing her fiercely before he laid her down and nestled between her legs.

Hermione lay under him, her hands on his shoulders as he entered her, she took his girth easier after her recent climax, and after a brief few minutes and a loud grunt he came, unleashing his large pent up load inside her with a shudder.

He rolled off her and onto his side of the bed with a relieved sigh, relaxing as Hermione suddenly spun around on the bed, her legs going up the headboard as she lay upside down.

“What ever are you doing?” Draco asked once he had caught his breath, raising an eyebrow at how ridiculous Hermione looked.

“Helping your semen reach my cervix.” Hermione explained matter of factly, using her teacher voice to hide her conflicted emotional state. “Using gravity to our advantage.”

“Uh huh.” Draco nodded furiously, pretending to know what on earth she was on about.

Despite Hermione’s insecurity about having been in such a vulnerable state with Draco and her instant regret at letting herself go like that, things were much more comfortable between them at the end of their second tryst.

Unfortunately, just as Hermione was mentally lecturing herself for her lustful moment, Draco was congratulating himself on breaking through her manicured, icy exterior, each person a complete different page, but neither aware of it.

And so after sufficient time had passed, Hermione showered, trying to clean her feelings away as much as the memory of his touch, and re-joined Draco in bed, where her husband was already asleep, blissfully unaware that this seemingly good step had in fact distanced him further from the woman he was on the brink of beginning to fall for.

 

 

 


	14. Chapter 14

Hermione was making embarrassing high-pitched noises, and she knew she was, but she could barely think straight as she clung to the tumultuous bed beneath her. Her eyes were fixed on the ceiling, determined not to look at the silver head between her thighs.

After less convincing than he’d expected Hermione, excited by their last bedroom encounter, had agreed to let him perform oral on her. Studies said a woman was more likely to get pregnant if she had orgasmed and consequently made her reproductive system nice and inviting for her husband’s baby making efforts.

At least that’s what she told herself as she writhed under the pleasure of Draco’s tongue inside her womanhood. If only it wasn’t him making her cry out for more. 

Draco, to his credit, wasn’t speaking, his mouth otherwise in use, and was incidentally allowing Hermione to live in the fantasy that it wasn’t him pleasuring her.

Draco, unfortunately was unaware of his wife’s need to ignore his identity as they fucked, as he himself, not only found Hermione attractive, (he had just fallen in absolute lust with her full, freckle dotted, supply round breasts) he was really starting to enjoy her company.

Yeah, she was annoying, but her banter excited him, her high-pitched moans excited him, and the idea of spending quite a long time together was daunting him less and less each day.

Their house arrest was going smoothly, and, thanks to Hermione’s recent discovery of the orgasm, thanks to her exceptionally talented husband, were already having sex for the third time, this time only days after the last time, instead of weeks.

Draco continued working his wet tongue inside Hermione’s warmth, paying extra attention to her sensitive nub until her body shuddered hard and her thighs clamped around his shoulders. Her orgasm was so electrifying she found herself gyrating against his mouth so that she could squeeze out every drop of delicious ecstasy.

Once her legs loosened and she released him, Draco lifted his head, wiping his face off on his arm before planting a kiss on her hip. “Glad you tried it?”

“Yes.” Hermione panted as she tried to catch her breath, her breasts heaving erotically as she did so.

“Mmm. I think we better keep this going.” Draco purred as he advanced on his wife, putting a hand on either side of body and pressing the bulge in his pyjama pants against her abdomen.

Hermione shook her head and braced her hands against Draco’s shoulders. “No, that was so intense, I’m shattered.”

Draco raised an eyebrow. “Uh, Granger, babies are not made via oral.”

He was annoyed, and his erection was throbbing, but he really wanted her to fuck him, so he tried to paly it cool.

“I know, I know.” Hermione complained as she ran her fingers over Draco’s shoulders, mostly because she needed something to fiddle with, not because she was trying to aggravate his arousal more, which she was doing.

“Come one Granger.” Draco cajoled her, swooping down to press a burning kiss on her collar bone, a place he’d noticed she seemed to respond to being kissed rather well.

“Okay but I just wanna lie here.” Hermione agreed with a sigh, aware that she would have to give up her ruse of sex for baby not pleasure if she didn’t let him unleash his seed inside her.

“I don’t want to have sex with a limp fish.” Draco complained as he shimmied out of his pyjamas.

“Shut up.” Hermione retorted defensively and wrapped her arms around his neck.

“Just hold on tight.” Draco suggested as he scrunched the sheets up in his fists, breathing in sharply as he entered her tightness.

Perhaps a little overcome with her conflicted emotions and with the swell of pleasure she felt bloom inside her as Draco pushed his large girth and length inside of her, Hermione found herself clinging to her husband. Her breasts pressed against his chest, as she placed a rare and more-than-meaningless kiss on her husbands’ mouth.

Despite the indifference she was so sure she felt, Hermione had a niggling suspicion there was something else she was feeling, and that whatever it was, she was feeling it for Draco Malfoy.

 


	15. Chapter 15

It was the 30th day of Draco and Hermione’s house arrest and things were less than pleasant between them.

This was heightened by the tension already in the house, and fuelled by Draco’s quietly intoxicated state. The wizard had been breaking into the stash beneath the floorboards all too often as he suffered his new marital woes.

The woes in question were possibly worse and certainly more complicated then there original problems. It didn’t help that they had been having sex almost constantly. Every time Hermione ovulated they were going at it like crazy. But their intimacy had reached a level so low you’d probably best call it non-existent.

Hermione was living a new world of pleasure she hadn’t experienced before, coupled with a huge sense of detachment to Draco. Her recent discovery that she had feelings for him was making her very cold towards him outside the bedroom, and even between the sheets she was making an effort not to allow him to believe she had any interest in her husband besides a carnal one. She didn’t know how to handle her feelings, she didn’t want to have them, and she certainly didn’t want him to know she had them.

Draco on the other hand was finding himself the least into sex he’d been since he was 12 years old. Hermione’s coldness hadn’t gone unnoticed by him and the crushing rejection he felt over her treatment of him was particularly agonizing as he’d had to overcome so much to admit to himself that he had real feelings for her. And as he pleasured her, he was unaware that he had more value to her than the ability to make her orgasm.

All the playful banter, all the communication they’d began, the barriers they’d broken through, it was all inconsequential, as Hermione Granger broke Draco Malfoy’s heart by protecting her own.

With this build up, both parties in the relationship were already suffering at the hands of each other, and something had to give.

“Oh my god, it’s barely 9 o’clock in the morning, and you reek of scotch.” Hermione said, as she entered the living room, disappointed to find her husband drinking at this hour. She was still damp from her shower and clad in a fluffy bathrobe.

“Good morning to you to.” Draco grumbled, gulping down the contents of his glass from where he was sitting in relative darkness.

Hermione rolled her eyes and passed him to pull back the drapes. “This place is a mess. And frankly you’re becoming an alcoholic.”

“Fuck you’re fun to be around aren’t you?” Draco asked sarcastically, shifting irritably in the sudden bright sunlight. “If the mess bothers you, clean it.”

Hermione heaved a sigh and tried to control her temper. “It’s not just up to me to keep this place tidy.”

Draco didn’t answer her and they sat in sullen silence for several minutes.

“Why are you always mad at me? Don’t pretend it’s the mess.” He asked suddenly, staring hard at the floor instead of his wife.

Hermione was caught off guard by this moment of sincerity and mulled over her answer for as long as she felt was acceptable.

“Because I’m experiencing so many conflicting emotions right now.” She volunteered honestly, concentrating intently on the view out the window. She couldn't admit to him it was because she was trying not to be attracted to him, because that would involve admitting it to herself.

“But we were getting along.” Draco reminded her, trying to keep the wistfulness from his voice.

“I want to get along.” Hermione whispered so softy she could almost convince herself she hadn’t said it.

“Then why don’t we?” Draco asked hopefully, getting up and approaching her, his piercing silver gaze finding her troubled one. He was willing to put aside the hurt he felt from their bedroom encounters if it meant they could reclaim the chemistry, the friendship they’d barely gotten to begin before it was crushed.

“Because we aren’t friends. We aren’t in love.” Hermione lied, forcing the words out like they were poisonous. “We’re in a forced marriage. We just have to have a baby, which is horrible enough. Why do we have to do more than that?”

Draco stepped back, he felt like she’d just torn through his chest with an icy blade.

“You just want to ignore each other until you ovulate, fuck, and then go back to pretending I don’t exist?” He demanded, his tone seething with the anger boiling up in his stomach.

“Is that so bad? It was you who was so desperate to fuck me since the beginning!” Hermione accused irrationally, lashing out to hide her real feelings, as her cheeks flushed red and her eyes welled with tears.

“How dare you.” Draco spat, his hand automatically going to the jacket pocket where he kept his wand.

“How dare I? How dare you!” Hermione repeated angrily, lunging and grabbing his hand to stop him from getting his wand. The wrestled for a second, their bodies pressed together as they struggled. Draco brought his other hand up to pull at Hermione’s, she stepped back and used both hands to push upward, trying to break his hold, accidentally giving Draco the opportunity to step closer to her.

He did so and pushed her up against the wall, and with a bit of extra effort pinned her hands above her. Her robe had come loose in the struggle, and her exposed body was tightly pinned under Draco’s. His mouth was inches above hers, her breath hot on his neck, and his eyes were downcast, drinking in the sight of her soft, full breasts bursting out of her robe.

He brought his gaze back up to hers, his cock stiffening against her waist as he breathed in her fresh, sweet scent. Her eyes darkened with lust, Hermione breached the gap between their mouths, and pressed her lips firmly against his, gasping as he responded by pushing her harder into the wall.

Overcome by each of their own conflicted desires for each other, they passionately kissed, their mouths exploring with a level of need and lust that hadn’t been present before.

Draco let go of Hermione’s hands, and ran his fingers down her arms, and down her sides, and clung to her hips as he pressed the hard bulge in his trousers against her and enveloped her mouth in his own.

With her hands free Hermione wrapped her arms around Draco’s neck and entwined her fingers the soft hair at the base of his head. She could feel his arousal for her, and for once her mind wasn’t clouded with worry and logic. Her own lust was taking over and the only thing she could think about was the feel of his lips against her skin.


	16. Chapter 16

Sunlight shone through the window pane, highlighting the sparkling flecks of dust in the air as Hermione and Draco lay in the aftermath of their heated encounter.

Draco was on his side, head propped up in one hand, as his heart beat slowly returned to normal and he enjoyed the last pulses of pleasure through his form.

Hermione was on her back, her kiss swollen lips parted as she panted, and her round, full breasts rose and fell quickly as she caught her breath. She was stunning, Draco couldn’t take his eyes off of her, he wanted to drink in every detail of how she looked, how she acted while in this state.

Her cheeks were flushed, her curls were in a disarray, and her pale skin was lightly raised with gooseflesh from the cold of being naked on the floor. Her nipples were stiff and dark, and he could see a bruise forming just below the left one, right on the curve of her breast, exactly where his mouth had been only moments before.

They lay in silence for several minutes, long enough for both of their breathing to return to normal and for both to start shivering a little.

“I’m cold.” Hermione said quietly, reluctant to break the silence. “And sticky.” She added with a grimace as she looked down her naked figure and eyed the mess that had seeped down her thighs.

Draco’s gaze followed her own, and immediately she was self-conscious of her naked body, the heat of the moment entirely burned out and allowing her insecurities to run rampant once again. She sat up hastily and rummaged in the debris of their clothing for her shirt.

“You don’t need to hide from me.” Draco said softly from behind her, causing her to hesitate in her search. She swallowed hard, immediately angry at herself as tears pricked her eyes.

Looking down, her back to him, the memory of how right their bodies had felt only minutes ago, Hermione admitted aloud, to herself, and to her husband, the fear that was crushing her.

“I’m afraid of _this_ intimacy.” She whispered, mortified to be speaking so openly but almost relieved at the same time.

The rustling behind her suggested that Draco too had sat up, and the comforting hand on her arm confirmed it.

“I’m afraid of every aspect of our future right now. But, and I hate to admit it, I’m a little less scared with you by my side.” Draco said honestly, afraid to commit too much, after how much she’d hurt his feelings earlier, but nonetheless desperate to connect again.

A hot tear escaped Hermione’s eye before she could shut them, and she wiped it from her cheek in annoyance. So many thoughts were creating a whirlwind in her brain and her heart was thumping painfully, she was on the brink of admitting things she’d never wanted to say, things she’s never imagine she’d feel. But she couldn’t, not yet, it was too soon. And yet she didn’t want to continue hurting Draco just to distance her heart from his, nor was she ready for her heart to be close to his.

She looked up at him, and met his gaze with all the confidence she could muster, considering she was naked and emotional and sitting on their floor.

“Truce?” She offered with a watery smile.

Draco raised an eyebrow and turned his mouth down into a pout.

“Friends?” She tried, her heart skipping a beat as his handsome face immediately transitioned into his once incredibly-annoying- smirk, that was now more of an incredibly-arousing-smirk.

“Friends with benefits?” Draco suggested, biting his lip to avoid Hermione seeing how relieved he was. He didn’t want her to have all of the power, he was already too vulnerable since he’d fallen for her.

“It’s a deal.” Hermione agreed, her tone a lot more seductive than she had intended.

“So can we fuck again?” Draco murmured, lowering his mouth to press a burning kiss to her shoulder, and slipped his hand down her front, and between her legs.

Hermione’s breath hitched as his nimble fingers caressed her folds.

Her nipples hardened, and the sensitive nub above her entrance became swollen as he fingered her sensually and moved his mouth to her jaw and pressed another hot kiss against her skin.

“I imagine we can.” She answered with a moan of enjoyment, turning her head to face him and meet his lips with her own. She kissed him forcefully, pulling him toward her as she lay down and held him to her. She could feel his manhood growing hard against her and intensified her kisses.

She was just opening her legs, moaning as Draco’s mouth ravished her breasts, her hands entwined in his pale hair, as suddenly a loud and piercing siren began blaring all around them.

They broke apart in confusion, both of them clamping their hands over their ears and turning to the window in horror, watching as the sun suddenly disappeared, and the sky went black.

“ALL WIZARDS AND WITCHES TO THE CITY CENTER IMMEDIATELY.”

 

 

 

 


	17. Chapter 17

It was terrifying. The sirens wouldn’t stop wailing, and the sudden darkness was only broken by the flashing red and green lights. The lights has started a few moments after the ominous orders had been projected to wizards and witches all across London.

Draco and Hermione were grim faced as they rushed around, pulling on clothes and trying to quash each of their rising panic. Hermione hurriedly buttoned a thick knee length coat over her jeans and sweater, the air around them seemed to be growing colder by the minute.

Draco stood at their door, had covered up in a grey hoodie and a black leather jacket. He had pulled the hoodie over his head, covering his distinctive hair, he felt no desire to stand out.

“We can’t get separated.” Hermione reminded him, her voice unusually high as she joined Draco at the door.

Draco took one of her hands in his own and did his best to ignore the boiling pit of fear in his stomach. “We’ll stay together.”

Hermione held his hand tightly, she found comfort in his firm grip and had no desire to let go.

Together they exited the apartment, making their way into the dark street. A chaotic wind had whipped up out of nowhere and was blowing debris down the road and through the air. The siren was even louder outside, and the flashing lights were disorientating.

Crazily, all around them were muggles, and they were just casually walking, talking and laughing, driving along, entirely unaffected by the terror around them. Their hair wasn’t eve blowing in the wind.

“The muggles, they can’t see or hear any of this.” Hermione shouted to Draco over the noise, clinging to him as the wind bullied them along.

“Makes sense I suppose.” Draco shouted back, his word almost lost in the sirens intense wail.

“Where’s the city centre?” Hermione yelled back, her teeth chattering in the cold.

“I think I know where they mean. Hold on, I’ll apparate us there.” Draco shouted, wrapping his arm around his wife.

Hermione barely had time to draw in a breath before they hurtled through space, in the crazy and unsettling way one does when Apparating, and arrived at the central point of London, [Charing Cross](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Charing_Cross), just south of [Trafalgar Square](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Trafalgar_Square).

They were surrounded by wizards and witches, no muggles were to be seen, and everyone looked as scared and confused as Hermione and Draco felt.

They stood together, Hermione sheltering her face from the wind in Draco’s chest, him hunched over her, as the crowd around them grew thicker and thicker. The crowd of scared wizards and witches grew so large that they were pressed against Hermione and Draco on all sides, and the sirens wailed louder and louder it seemed.

And then, as suddenly as it had begun, the lights and the sirens stopped, and the wind died down to nothing, and the air became creepily still.

Across the crowd a voice boomed.

“Wizards and witches of London. You have been summoned to witness, the punishment for those who try and disobey the law set by the Ministry of Magic.”

Draco looked around, unable to place any familiar faces, as terror grew inside him.

“They’ve put up wards against muggles.” Hermione surmised, whispering quietly to her husband, afraid to break the hush that had befallen the crowd.

Draco had to agree with her, everyone around them looked terrified, but not panicked confused the way a muggle would be in this situation.

A platform stage hovered into the air above the crowd, its slow ascent riveting thousands of eyes.

Standing on the stage was the Minister of Magic, and the wizard Draco recognized as the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, though he couldn’t remember his name. Beside them stood two witches, both were bound with rope at their hands and feet, and were entirely naked.

Ugly bruises were patterned all over their bodies, their hair had been shaven, their bodies grossly defiled. And yet, in both women’s eyes, burned a ferocity that neither Hermione nor Draco would soon forget.

“These witches, Trixie Mattel, and Katya Zamolodchikova, have been found guilty of treason against the Ministry.” The Minister’s voice boomed across the crowd as he continued, his wand pressed against his throat.

“Their crimes include abandonment of their Ministry approved marriages, Ministry break-ins, numerous violent protests, and the creation of a résistance against the Ministry of Magic.”

The Minister paused, as two hooded wizards apparated onto the stage, where it floated above the crowd.

“Let this be an example to all of you.” The Minister finished, his voice cold as he turned to face the captive witches.

In unison, the hooded wizards raised their wands, and without even saying a word, green light shot across the stage, the dreaded killing curses hitting each witch squarely in the chest.

Their lifeless bodies collapsed and toppled off of the stage, falling into the horrified crowd below, amidst the screams and shouts of indignation and terror.

“No!” Hermione shouted, her fists curled into balls, her face red with rage, tears spilling from her eyes as she tried to pull out her wand.

“No, Hermione stop.” Draco implored her, grabbing her, and pinning her arms down as he pulled her to him.

“Let me go, this is wrong, let me go goddamnit!” Hermione shouted, writhing in her husband’s grasp.

“Hermione if you fight back, you’ll be no better off!” Draco felt like he was falling through space and time, it was like they’d been thrust back in time to a primitive society. He couldn’t even fathom what was happening in this moment. All he could focus on was stopping Hermione from getting them both killed, no matter how much he agreed with her.

The crowd surged violently around them, as others had similar reactions to Hermione, and spells began flying through the air. All of the spells simply bounced off the air around the floating stage, wards clearly in place, and as the wizards and witches attacked, the executors retaliated, in the way Draco had predicted.

They shot spells back into the crowd, and all around people fell to the ground, writhing in agony as the other two, non-lethal but still cruel, Unforgiveable curses were doled out in punishment for the unrest.

Hermione stopped struggling in Draco’s arms and pushed her wand back into her sleeve.

“Move!” She shouted, pushing her husband back as a curse struck the ground between them, singing the ground where Draco had just been standing.

“We have to get out of here.” Draco panted, stepping gingerly over the scorch mark and taking Hermione’s hand.

“I don’t think that’s going to be a problem.” Hermione answered sombrely, her heart sinking even further as uniformed, gun armed troops started surging through the crowd.

The troops swarmed the around them, and one immediately grabbed Hermione.

“Hold up your hand.” He ordered gruffly, and she complied without protest.

Yes she was angry, yes she was scared, and yes she wished she was going to wake up from this nightmare.

But no, now wasn’t the right time to fight.

The officer held up some sort of scanner, and pressed her hand to it. A light scanned her hand, beeped loudly, and her I.D. showed up on the little screen. The officer let her go and repeated the process with Draco.

“You house arrest has been lifted.” He informed them, in a tone that suggested house arrest was a luxury. He pulled out a pair of handcuffs and slapped them down on Hermione’s left wrist, and Draco’s right.

He pressed a small beeping device to the cuff, and it seemed to somehow fuse to it, as though it had been welded.

“Apparate to Charring Cross Station. Board the blue train. If you go anywhere else, this device will immediately exterminate you. You have seven minutes.”

The officer delivered his instructions coldly and briskly, and then turned away to scan the net person.

Hermione turned to Draco, bile rising in her throat as she tried to comprehend.

Draco stared back at her, dumbfounded, and looking worryingly pale.

Shaking her head to stop herself from bursting into tears, Hermione grabbed both of Draco’s hands, told him to hold on, and apparated them away from the crazed crowd.

They landed roughly in Charring Cross Station, both falling over as Hermione’s ankle twisted beneath her upon landing.

“Are you okay?” Draco asked, helping her to her feet, and looking around the normal seeming train station apprehensively.

Hermione tested putting weight on her ankle and winced, immediately leaning back onto her other foot.

“I’ll live, but I think I sprained my ankle.” She admitted, the tears springing to her eyes again.

“It’s gonna be okay.” Draco said reasoned, trying to convince the both of them as he caught sight of the blue train they were meant to board. “Let’s just get on the train, and we can sit down, and figure things out.”

Hermione nodded tearfully and limped beside him to join the line on the platform.

A Ministry official, surrounded by armed troops, scanning people before they boarded.

The train was already running, and let out steam loudly when the couple reached the front of the group.

An officer scanned both of their hands again, and once they had attained that they were where they were meant to be the Ministry Official held out his hand and flicked it upward.

Hermione and Draco’s wands flew from where they were concealed in their clothes, and landed perfectly in the Ministry Wizards hand.

Hermione bit back her outraged protest at her wand being taken, and the man offered Draco two blue tickets in his other hand.

Draco took them, his face stone cold, his eyes burning with anger, and stepped forward, guiding Hermione with him.

The officers pushed them into an almost full train carriage, which was little more than a storage container, and slammed the heavy iron door shut behind them.

Hermione clung to Draco, her ankle throbbing painfully as her eyes adjusted to the darkness, and she found some light creeping in from miniscule cracks and holes in the walls. The floor was dusty and lightly covered in straw, and huddled against the walls, mostly hidden in shadow and darkness were about 2 dozen other witches and wizards.

They stood in silence, the air filled with nothing but laboured breathing, until the train whistle blew loudly and the train lurched forward, forcing them both to the ground.

From beside where they fell, someone muttered bitterly.

“Next stop, hell.”


End file.
